The Games of the Damned
by LittleSchemer
Summary: It's the 67th Hunger Games and the Capitol is ready for blood. Out of the 24 tributes, only one can be crowned the victor. But as lives cross in the arena and friendships are formed and torn apart, who will be able to kill and who will die?
1. The Reapings

**This might seem really rushed - I was going to write all of the reapings, but I kind of wanted to get to the actual games as quickly as possible.**

**This is my first attempt at writing in the present tense so the writing might not be that great. There are also a **_**lot**_** of POV switches. Sorry if it gets confusing.**

**With all of that out of the way, I hope you enjoy it!**

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**Howel Sela – District 1**

I make my way to the other sixteens and wait for the reaping to begin. It's my year this year, I know it.

I'm not standard Career material, but then again, I'm not an official Career. I tried training once, but it wasn't my kind of thing. You see, Careers always rely on their fists too much. With my tactical mind, the games will be an easy win.

I've managed to push my way to the front of the crowd. Not so that I can get a better view – I'm tall enough to see fine wherever I am – but so that it's easier for me to reach the stage.

Waiting, I stare at the stage, letting the mayor's words wash over me. I've heard it all before, I don't need to hear it again. Dark Days this, history that, yes, yes, we all know, get on with it. Then our escort comes on stage. She looks ridiculous, sickeningly Capitol. The only thing that the Capitol is good for is the games. I don't give a damn about getting the nice house, the fame, the money, which seems to be what lots of the other Career Tributes waffle on about. No, I just want to see if I can win. I know that I can, I know that I can kill. Every year, I watch the games for every second of the coverage, working out a battle plan as if I was there. I'd have won every year. This year, my parents finally consented to letting me volunteer. I think it'll be the shortest games yet.

I watch as they select the female tribute. It'll be a Career, I know that much. I can see them all at the front of the crowd, ready to pounce. I'm not a fan of Careers. The girl's are either just as manly as the guys, or simpering glamour models who try to win the games with a flirt and a pout. I think I'd rather have the model type with me though. I don't want to spend the entire journey to Capitol with some hulking brute of a girl for company. Although once we get into the games, that type would probably be better.

"Cerra Gell!" the woman calls out.

A blonde girl strides out of the seventeens, a smug grin on her carefully painted face. She makes her way onto the stage, her grin only widening as she looks out at the crowd. She's like the perfect District One girl, just as sparkly and golden as the goods we produce.

Then the escort finds the name of the male tribute. Finally, it's interesting. I only listen until I've heard enough of the name to know that it's not mine and my hand shoots into the air.

"I volunteer for tribute!" I shout, before anyone else has a chance to.

I hear a few gasps run through the crowd. Why does it surprise people so much that I've volunteered? I might not be the perfect Career, but I am the perfect tribute – the one that's going to win.

Before any of the trained Careers can stop me, I race onto the stage, flashing a smile at the startled looking woman holding a scrap of paper.

Cerra Gell looks at me, momentary confusion in her eyes. She's probably analysing me as an ally, as a teammate. I'm just thinking of the ways that I could kill her.

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**Luck Barnes – District 3**

"Abigayl Dowl!"

I gasp as I hear the name called out, and find the girl. Her hand covers her mouth as her friends try to comfort her, and tears swell in her eyes. In the fourteens, I see her younger sisters struggle to try to get to her.

Why Abi? Why did it have to be Abi? Of all the people that could have been picked, it had to be the girl that I might well be in love with. Not that she knows it of course. We're friends, well, acquaintances, and that's all. Now that's all that our relationship will ever be. I never truly expected it to be anything more but at least I could hope. But now she's going to die.

I can't look away from her as she walks to the stage, her brown hair in delicate curls around a white flower in her hair. In her shimmering purple dress, she looks like she should be at a formal ball, not walking to her death.

"Boys next!" the escort singsongs as she prepares to draw the next name.

I can feel the entire crowd grow tense around me. I'm too busy worrying about Abi to hear my own name called. I only realise when someone jabbed me in the ribs. I look up and hear the escort repeat my name. I don't believe it, even when I hear him saying it. I've never taken tesserae, my name can't have been in there that many times. But there it is, on the little slip of paper that man is holding. I bite my lip to fight back the tears that sting at my eyes behind wonky glasses. I'll probably set the time for the quickest tribute death ever. Oh god, I'm going to die. I force my shaking fingers into fists and hold my head high although I feel like breaking down and crying. Tears don't change anything.

I wait in the vain hope that someone will volunteer, but the man on stage just repeats my name again, calling me up onto the stage. My feet move because they have to. I consider my situation as I make my way there. I'm not going to win the games, I know that much, I'll just have to try to stay alive past the bloodbath. Who knows? I might actually do alright. According to many people, I'm a genius. I hope that they're right.

I swallow and stare out at the audience. I hate the feel of their eyes on me as they realise that they won't have a victor for yet another year.

I meet Abi's eye as I walk onto the stage. I'd temporarily forgotten that she'd be in the arena with me, but now realisation slaps me like a wet fish. We'll be fighting against each other. I might have to kill her.

No. I won't let her die.

She looks away as we awkwardly shake hands.

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**Michael Bijoque – District 4**

I stand amongst the sixteens, bouncing up and down slightly as I wait for the names to be announced. As always, I blank the mayor's speech, and just ignore the escort. It's the same every year. I yawn, and check the time.

My teacher told me to volunteer this year, which means that I won't have any competition from the other boys. I almost volunteered anyway last year, but I was so glad I didn't when I saw the frozen arena that the tributes ended up in. I wouldn't have stood a chance in there. Just a normal arena would be nice this year.

Girls first. It's not always girls first; they mix up the order sometimes. And of course – because it's my turn, the day I've been waiting for for sixteen years – girls go first. Oh well, let's see who I'm with.

Eli Joan apparently. She volunteers immediately after the escort has called out a name, and runs up to the stage, her curly hair bouncing. Murmurs run through the boys. None of the girls that they'd predicted had volunteered. She didn't have any competition from the other girls though. Obviously the girls knew who was meant to be volunteering, just like the boys.

And now it was time for me to volunteer.

I hear the boy's name called out. Some kid from the fourteens. Sorry to shatter your dreams, kid, but I'm the tribute this year.

Hand in the air, I shout out to volunteer.

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**Rhian Stonat – District 8**

"Rhian Stonat!" I hear my name called.

Crap. That's the only word that runs through my head, in huge, bold capital letters.

There's no chance of someone else volunteering to take my place. That means I'm going into the arena. I'd never really thought that I had a chance of getting picked. My older brother normally took tesserae for the family, this was the first time that I'd taken it. And look where it got me.

Next to me, Cray gasps, squeezing my hand so tightly that I think it could drop off. He's saying something, through tears I think, but the words mean nothing to my jumbled brain. Around me, I hear people I know and people I don't know whispering sympathies to me, but I'm too stunned to speak. Too stunned to even think.

I only know that I need to get onto the stage, and that's where my feet seem to be taking me.

The woman smiles at me. How can she do that? She's just sentenced me to my death! This isn't any time to be optimistic.

Then again, it doesn't hurt to be optimistic. Maybe if I convince myself that I can win the games then I might have a better chance at it. I'm not completely useless. I've never used a weapon before, but using a sword can't be that hard. It's just a glorified stick really. A glorified stick that kills people.

That's the icky bit about winning the games. Having to kill people. I don't think I'd be that good at it. Blood makes me feel nauseous so cruel murder doesn't exactly seem like a very attractive concept to me.

I wonder who the boy's going to be. I hope I don't know him; otherwise he'll be impossible to kill. Although I guess I am most likely to find an ally in my own district.

A name is called, one I don't recognise. I sigh with relief when a black haired boy, trembling with fear, walks out of the thirteens. I don't know him.

But then a hand hits the air and a voice shouts out. It's a voice I know, and not a voice that I want to hear in this context.

"I volunteer!"

Whispers run through the crowd as a blond boy rushes past the tribute. I can only stare at him. Cray Stonat, my twin brother.

He's smiling when he reaches me, although his eyes shine with tears. The announcer glances at him.

"Are you sure?" she hisses.

"Of course," Cray says, smiling at me. "I couldn't let you go into the arena alone, could I?"

"Yes you can," I say, my throat dry.

Cray holds out his hand to shake, but I throw my arms around him, pulling him close.

"You idiot," I whisper in his ear. "You utter idiot."

I pull away and turn back to the audience. I locate my mother in the crowd, sobbing as people struggle to console her. It was bad enough when she thought she'd only be losing one child in the games. Now she's losing two.

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**Lecks Jan – District 10**

I love reaping day. I think I'm the only one in the whole district that does. I mean, it's sad when it's a little kid that gets picked out, but when it's someone in my year – especially someone I hate – it's awesome. I get to watch them die – or win, which is good too – on national TV!

It's not just the reaping that I like, it's the entire games. They make me rich! I get the kids at school to place bets on who'll win, and I always win. And watching the games is fun. I have favourites that I cheer on, and the violent deaths are sometimes hilarious. My parents don't think it's healthy for me to like them so much, but what can they do? It's compulsory viewing!

Our escort is a young capitol woman in a miniskirt – nice. She wishes us a 'happy Hunger Games' and goes straight for picking out the female tribute.

Lidi Wen, a girl from the thirteens. Ouch, that's not good. Oh well, looks like I won't get to call out crude comments like I have done to the female tributes in previous years. Our female tributes always suck anyway. Those District One girls – that's another good thing about the games. Hot girls covered in blood. Yum.

The escort goes to draw the boys name and I get ready to shout out a taunt. Until it's my name. Holy crap, that's not good. I glance at the boys around me.

"So, who's volunteering for me then?" I ask.

No answer.

"Come on, volunteer!" I yell.

"Lecks," the escort says. "Come onto the stage."

Reluctantly, I make my way up onto the stage. I catch the mayor smiling slightly as I walk past him. I glare at him and he looks away. He rigged this! He must have done! There's no way I'd have been picked without him meddling. I might not exactly be a good influence on the other kids, but that doesn't mean I should be killed. That's just _twisted_.

Looks like I'm in the games then. That's not good. That's not good at all. I frickin' hate the Hunger Games.

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**Thanks for reading that jumbled mess of POVs! Please let me know what you think (just don't be too harsh...)**

**Oh, and I don't own the Hunger Games. I guess I had to put that in somewhere. **


	2. Tributes

**More character introductions this chapter – I'll get to the interesting bits soon.**

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**Abigayl Dowl – District 3**

I sit in the Justice Building, staring at the floor. Luck is opposite me, speaking to his parents and sister with a painful optimism.

My parents just sit either side of me. I don't know what to say to them and they don't know what to say to me. This is the last time that I'll ever see them. I should at least tell them something.

"I love you," I whisper, barely breaking the silence.

My younger sisters Jaim and Aess sit on the floor in front of me, looking at me with two pairs of identical eyes. I can't meet their gaze without wanting to cry.

"I would have volunteered," Aess says, and I smile weakly.

"That's not what I would have wanted," I say. Now that there are words in the air, it feels like it hurts less to add to them. "Look, you're going to be watching the games. I want you to know that whatever happens to me in there, whatever I do in there, it's not my fault, or the other tributes. It's the Capitol. Just remember that."

"You'll come back," says Jaim. "I know you will."

I laugh. "Of course."

"No! You will! I know how scary you can be," Jaim says with a grin.

"She's right," Mum says. Her voice hurts the most. "You have a chance in there. I'm not going to say that you'll win, not definitely, but you do have a chance. You have what so many tributes lack – you've got a brain. Just keep calm and don't be stupid."

My eyes return to the floor, now aching with tears. Mum kisses my cheek and the twins hug me before they leave the Justice Building. When I hear the doors close, I glance up at Luck to see that his family has left as well. He smiles at me, and I force a smile in return.

"Sorry you got reaped," he says.

Is that all he can say? He sounds almost happy. I don't know Luck well, but I didn't think that he'd be the type to enjoy watching my slow death. But I don't say anything. I just look away.

"So..." Luck twiddles his thumbs as he speaks. "We're in the arena together."

"Apparently," I say quietly.

Why does he want to talk? Can't he see that I want to be on my own?

"Do you..." he clears his throat. "Do you want to be, you know, allies? When we're fighting, I mean."

I look up again, taking in the hopeful expression on his face. I hate to say it, but I can find a better ally than Luck. He's stick thin and looks like a Career could snap him in two with little to no effort. If I say yes now, then he'll follow me around and won't give me a chance to talk to any other tributes. I sigh.

"Maybe. Just let me think about it." I never was good at telling the truth when it would hurt. "I need some time for us all to sink in."

Luck's face falls, but he manages a nod. Suddenly, I feel a bit heartless and cruel. Good – I'll need to be if I want to survive.

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**Raquelle Threld – District 6**

After my parents leave the Justice Building, I just stare at my hands as my fingers wind their way around each other. I don't feel scared, I know that I should, but I just feel hollow. And slightly excited. That can't be good.

I think that I'm one of the only people in the district who would still watch the games even if it wasn't required. I think that they're horrible, brutal, foul, but still fascinating. I find it intriguing just how stupid and evil people can be, but also how they find hidden strengths and courage. I lie awake at night when the games are on, working out what I'd do in the tributes' position. Each year, I've been ready for my name to be called. I've even done some basic training in my free time in case I was chosen. Time to see if it actually paid off.

I look up at the male tribute opposite me, and a slight smirk wriggles onto my lips as I see that he's in floods of tears. The games are a horrible fate to wish on anyone, but if anyone deserves it, it's Connor.

He's the mayor's pampered son, arrogant and smug. He lives virtually a Capitol lifestyle, and is one of the few people in the district that can afford a bit of extra weight. Although he's quite stocky and fairly strong, I can't see him getting far in the games.

I look away. These are horrible thoughts. I shouldn't want anyone to die, even Connor. I might be the one to kill him though, when it comes to it in the arena. I laugh hollowly. The games have started to turn me into a monster already.

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**Michael Bijoque – District 4**

I launch straight into eating on the train, ignoring the "words of wisdom" that my mentor fires at me. I know it all already – do they really think that I didn't learn anything in my training? I wouldn't have volunteered if I didn't.

And anyway, the Capitol feast laid out for us is incredible. I don't know what half of the stuff that I'm wolfing down is – I just know that it's delicious. Even the mentors and escort seem shocked by my appetite as I devour plate after plate. I gave up on using cutlery a while ago.

Opposite me, the female tribute – Eli Joan – makes conversation with the mentors, carefully avoiding the subject of the games. I was surprised when she volunteered. I'd seen her training, and there are plenty of stronger girls in the district. She never seemed like a Career to me, with her almost permanent grin and mane of curls. I don't know though, maybe she's a deft shot or something.

I don't have a specialist area. I'm a jack of all trades really. Give me a weapon and I should be able to hit. Unless it's a ranged weapon. I think being shortsighted probably isn't having a great effect on my depth perception.

One of the mentors says something to me, and a mumble an agreement. I don't listen to what he says though, I'm too busy eating.

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**Luck Barnes – District 3**

Along with Abi and my mentor, I settle down to watch the reruns of the reaping. I have to learn exactly what I'm up against, what I have to protect Abi from. She seems equally interested, her eyes glued to the screen as the Capitol woman introduces the reaping.

It cuts to One first. The boy that volunteers can't have been a Career. He's scrawny and lanky, not what you'd expect from a District One tribute. As the camera cuts to a close up, there's a smug glint in his eyes. I mentally add him to the list of people that I don't want to ally with.

The girl is much more typical, blonde and beautiful. Again, another one that I won't trust. Not that I'd have a chance to ally with Careers in the first place.

Camera cuts to Two. The boy here is the complete opposite of the boy from one. He's the kind of guy that looks like he eats babies for fun. I glance at Abi to see if she's scared, but her face remains blank, eyes fixed on the television.

When the girl's name is announced, Abi's eyes widen and she gasps. I can hardly believe it myself.

"Zozi Dowl!" the Two woman shouts out.

"No," Abi whispers beside me. "She's dead."

The camera cuts to a girl emerging from the eighteen year old pen. She's short with straight black hair and pale skin. No one volunteers to take her place – that's strange for Two. Maybe she's a Career that just happened to be chosen. She seems a bit irritated as she takes her place on the stage, nodding towards the other tribute rather that shaking his hand. Really, she just looks bored.

There's no mistaking it though. It's definitely Zozi – Abi's sister that disappeared five years ago. She doesn't seem to have changed much since then.

Abi is flabbergasted. "That's Zozi," is all that she says to begin with. Then "Why is she alive?"

I can remember when Zozi died. It was suicide. Or at least, virtually suicide. She tried to leave the district. The Peacekeepers shot her dead. There was a funeral, though only the Dowl's were permitted to attend. Abi didn't speak for weeks after it – she was only eleven when it happened after all.

Then how is Zozi alive, well, and heading for the arena?

Maybe the Peacekeepers lied. Maybe they only said that they killed her to keep up their public image. They couldn't let it be known that a thirteen year old could escape their security so easily.

"She's in District Two..." Abi whispers. "Why's she in Two? Why didn't she come back?"

Tears are crawling down her cheeks but she's not crying. There's more pain in her eyes than when her name was called at the reaping, but she's smiling. It's strange. As is her voice as it creeps ever closer to hysterical.

"So, she's not dead. But she left me. Right. She said she'd come back. For me, you know. But no, she's in Two. Two! Well, now she's a tribute. I'm a tribute. We're going to be fighting to the death. You know that, Luck? You know that! All of us – not just me and her! Me and you!" She laughs. "I could kill you, Luck. If the careers don't get you. Or the mutts. Or another tribute. Could be me."

I block her out. I can't listen to her right now. Anything I say will just give her words more fuel to burn on.

"You know that – don't you?" she repeats.

"Yeah."

I don't mean to sound so flat, but I need to pay attention to the screen. The three segment is almost over. If I don't take every chance to analyse my opponents, then we're both going to die in the arena. And I'm not going to let that happen.

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**Uwel Maggs – District 5**

The commentators are already discussing if the two girls are related. It's certainly going to be an interesting Hunger Games if they are. Actually, Capitol will love the games anyway. They've got Hero and me already.

I still can't believe that she was picked in the reaping, even now as she sits beside me on the sofa, trembling as each new tribute is announced. I put an arm around her and feel her relax slightly. She told me earlier that she would have volunteered anyway if I'd been reaped, and it was just luck that her name got picked. I'm really not a fan of heroic sacrifices.

I continue to watch as the tributes are announced, each one a possible ally, possible killer, or – I shudder – a possible kill. I won't be able to kill any of these people. Actually, I shouldn't be able to. If any of them try to harm Hero, I will make sure that they pay. Even so, the thought of killing any of the kids on screen horrifies me. They're all just as frightened as me as they cry and the camera always finds their sobbing parents in the crowd. Or cheering parents, in the sick cases of the Careers. How exactly is this entertainment?

They're announcing more Careers now – District Four. The girl is a volunteer. She's slightly older than me, with wild hair just as curly as mine. The boy also volunteers, enthusiastic as he runs onto the stage, grinning at the audience. It's only when he stands beside the girl that I realise how tall he is. He towers over his escort like a giant. He doesn't look that bad though, for a Career. No bulging muscles, but glasses and a beaming smile. It's all an act though. He'll be a heartless killer in the arena.

The coverage moves onto Five – my district. I can't watch as Hero walks onto the stage. Why couldn't someone have volunteered?

Six doesn't look like much of a threat. A slightly chubby boy in floods of tears as he drags himself onto the stage. The mayor's son, the commentary announces. I guess that the reaping spares no one. As the camera focuses on his red face, I can't see him getting past the bloodbath. The girl seems almost happy. Petite, with a spring in her step and dimples in her cheeks as she smiles. That's strange. I've never seen anyone other than a career look anything other than distraught about being chosen.

Seven is pretty standard. A greasy blond boy who complains as he walks onto the stage, arms crossed and refusing to shake hands.

"Good luck getting sponsors," I comment.

Hero nudges me in the ribs to shut me up.

The girl seems optimistic, but her smile doesn't reach her terrified eyes. She's a year older than me, with crazy blonde hair and thick rimmed glasses. Her reaping outfit is bright pink and green. She'll certainly be a character if she survives.

With Eight, the star-crossed lovers of Five and possible sisters in Two and Three are made to look almost inconsequential. The girl is called up first. She looks young, although she's my age, with scruffy blond hair and blue eyes. Then there's a volunteer from the boys. There's never a volunteer in any non-career district. The camera focuses on him, and it's clear who he is. Scruffy blonde hair, slightly shorter than the girls; the same blue eyes and even the same mask of confidence over fear. They're twins, going into the arena together.

"That's horrible..." whispers Hero, her first comment since we started watching.

I manage a nod in agreement, then my eyes return to the television.

Nine has a scrawny, brown haired boy, and the girl is the youngest of the tributes so far. A fourteen year old with short dark brown hair and terrified eyes. I can tell from her expression that she's even more certain than me that she's going to die. No one under fifteen ever wins the games.

Ten also has a young girl, even younger than Nine's. She doesn't bother trying to hide her sorrow, and collapses in tears before even reaching the stage. The boy, on the other hand, seems more than a little psychopathic as he grins at the audience. His face is almost bright orange with a tan, and his voice squeaky as he flirts with the announcer. I already hate him.

Eleven's boy is shaking as he walks onto the stage, but the girl seems absolutely terrified. She's short, with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. And she's sobbing as she shakes the boy's hand. Meanwhile, the commentator jokes about her height compared to the enormous District Four boy. That's obviously what passes for humour in the Capitol.

Most people will have stopped paying attention by the time in gets onto Twelve. I was ready to turn away just as they announced the boy. Samkin Hopp. The camera shows him as his name is read out, and he looks slightly amused. He stands out from the kids around him. His hair falls to his shoulders, messy and matted. His features are sharp, but almost feminine. With a hairbrush and a dress, he could almost pass as a female tribute. But his eyes are the weirdest thing. The iris is so dark brown it's almost black. It makes his face look blank and expressionless, almost unreadable as he takes his place on the stage. Looks like we might have to look out for a District Twelve kid for once.

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**Thanks for reading this far! I don't want to be one of those people that goes on and on about wanting reviews, but they would be appreciated!**


	3. Chariots

**Just a short chapter this time! Only one more chapter and they'll be going into the arena.**

**Once the actual games begin, I won't be jumping POVs as much. I'll stick with one or two per chapter.**

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**Michael Bijoque – District 4**

My stylist looks me up and down after my prep team have attacked me. She's a strange looking woman, almost inhumanly slim. Her green hair drifts around her head like tendrils, seeming almost more alive than her gaunt face. She squints at me, tapping her foot and I grin sheepishly.

"I swear, if you dress me up as a fish, I'll kill you," I say, which gets a smile from her.

"Keep that anger for the arena. We did fish last year," she says. "It would be dull if we did it twice." She narrows her eyes once more. "Are you wearing contacts?"

"Eh? Oh – yeah," I say, remembering the thin saucers of plastic that now float on my eyes. "Took ages to get them in. Apparently I have really stiff eyelids."

"Take them out."

"What?"

"Take them out," she repeats. "You'll be wearing glasses in the arena – won't you? You'll want people to recognise you."

I nod, secretly dreading the thought of having to poke around in my eyes once more.

"Right, after that we'll get you into your costume. With a bit of makeup you'll be ready," she says.

"Wait – makeup?" I exclaim.

She raises an eyebrow. "Of course. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Well, there is that slight problem of me being male..."

She snorts a laugh. "That's a problem? Seriously kid, everyone in the Capitol wears makeup. You'll look out of place if you don't."

"But I thought you were trying to make me look like me!"

"You will. Just a slightly more sparkly version of you. There won't be much, don't worry."

"I'm going to _sparkle_?"

"Stop complaining about it," she says, the irritation in her tone growing. "You're going to look fine. More than fine, you're going to look great – I'll make sure of it."

It's clear that no matter what I say, I'm going to get covered in makeup. Maybe it'll be subtle enough that it won't be glaringly obvious. I doubt it. From what I've seen of the Capitol, they don't seem to do subtle very well. Resigned to my makeup-clad fate, I risk another question.

"Please tell me that my costume's going to be ok?"

"Of course it will," snaps the stylist. "I made it, of course it's perfect."

"Does it sparkle as well?"

"It can if you want it to," she says with a laugh. "But no, no it doesn't. I think you'll quite like it actually."

That doesn't make me any less worried about what I'm going to be paraded about in. I've seen the costumes that they've put on past tributes. They're often super-skimpy or just plain weird. But deep down, I'm actually quite excited about how I'm going to turn out.

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**Howel Sela – District 1**

I take my place in the chariot beside the blonde girl. Cerra – was it? It doesn't matter. She'll be my ally in the arena and then I'll kill her. It's that simple.

I feel ridiculous in my costume though. They've gone for a "prince and princess" theme. A crown balances on my head, and the stupidly elaborate costume glitters with jewels. Cerra doesn't look much better than me, but she smiles a perfect plastic smile that's bound to capture the hearts of the Capitol.

I hear cheers as we're rolled out onto the circuit, and I force myself to smile. It probably comes out looking more like a pained grimace, which is exactly how I feel. I'm not here to be a shiny pretty celebrity; I'm here to kill people. The sooner I can get to that, the better.

I watch the big screen as the camera focuses on different tributes. Some of them I recognise from the television coverage of the reaping. Some are so made up that they're hardly recognisable. I check my allies particularly.

Neither of the District Two tributes are smiling, both of them look like they can't wait to be out of their chariot. The boy is exactly what I'd expect of a career – a mountain of muscle with as many brain cells as a tadpole. The girl is much more mysterious, but hate and loathing burn in her eyes.

District Four are much more enthusiastic, in their matching sea green costumes. With white ruffles and lace, they look like breaking waves. The girl is waving and blowing kisses, and the boy is posing and winking at girls in the audience. The girl's crazy hair has been tamed into elegant waves. I'm still not sure what to think of them. I hope all of this happiness is just a facade that will vanish the moment we step into the arena.

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**Lecks Jan – District 10**

I think I look awesome when I see myself on a big screen that I pass. My district partner keeps away from me, her face sullen as I wave and grin at the crowd. I'm awesome, even if my costume makes me look like a sheep. My stylist was very impressed by me. He said that the sun had turned my skin so orange that it looks like I'm from the Capitol anyway, even if orange has been 'out' for a few years.

The Capitol's great. The girls are pretty – if sometimes weird – and the food's delicious. I could get used to living like this once I win the games. It's clear I'm going to win, the crowd loves me. I know that all of their cheers are for me. I just wish I could have got a better looking girl to ride in my chariot!

**

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**

**Abigayl Dowl – District 3**

Zozi is in the chariot in front of mine. I try hard not to look at her, and instead focus on charming the crowd. I'm going to need all of the sponsors that I can get if I want a hope of staying alive.

Quickly, I get wrapped up in it all. My fake smile becomes a real one as the crowd chants my name and throws me flowers. Luck reaches for my hand, but I bat him away. I don't want him to assume that just because we're from the same district we're going to be allies. Unfortunately, I think he's already reached that conclusion now.

I see my face on a screen. I look like I belong in the Capitol. It's strange, seeing myself so decked out in finery. A silver dress that shimmers with each movement I make. Long silken gloves that reach my elbow. My eyes are surrounded by purple and blue, and tiny silver rhinestones that catch the light are glued to my cheeks. My stylist wanted to put a flower in my hair like I'd had at the reaping, but it was decided that it wouldn't fit with the technological theme. Instead I wear a heavy necklace and earrings made of computer parts. It still looks stunning though. But I don't look like a killer, and I definitely don't feel like one.

**

* * *

**

**Rhian Stonat – District 8**

I grip tightly onto Cray's hand, like it's the only thing keeping me on the chariot. It probably is. Under the lights and the heat of my costume, I feel like I'm about to collapse.

Our stylists really played up the twin thing. They've cut my hair to Cray's length so that we look even more identical, and given me heels to boost my height. They also gave us both eyeliner – which I wasn't mad about.

When we first saw each other in our ridiculous draped outfits with our makeup finished, we burst out laughing. I keep almost forgetting what's going to happen to us, after all this pampering is over. I don't know what I'd have done without Cray by my side. Not that I want him to be here of course.

As a flower lands in our chariot, my eyes widen and I manage to wave at the audience. It's sick, how they turn us into celebrities to love and worship, and then watch us die.

I look around at the other tributes. We're not the only tributes who are close this year, obviously. There was all of the hullaballoo over the two possible sisters, but they don't seem to be looking at each other. The tributes from Four are getting on well, and are clearly winning over the crowd. I'm not sure how much of it is an act, but it makes me smile. I quickly correct myself and direct the smile at the crowd. I can't even consider liking Careers. It's like a mouse liking a cat.

District Five are holding hands, but they're clearly not brother and sister. The girl blows a kiss to the audience. The boy frowns, and pulls her into a kiss. A wave of cheers spreads through the audience, and when the two break apart, they're both blushing crimson.

I glance at Cray, and settle into the chariot slightly better, managing a few waves at the crowd. I need to get sponsors, and this seems like a good way of doing it.

**

* * *

**

**Sorry about all of the POV jumps in this chapter – I promise I'll do it less from now on.**

**As always, reviews would definitely be appreciated! **


	4. Preparations

**Last chapter before the games begin! I skip over a lot of stuff in this chapter, but I just want to get them all into the arena as soon as I can.**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! Knowing that people are reading this story and liking it really means a lot to me.**

**Hope you enjoy it!**

**

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**Elsia Bunn – District 11**

After spending ages scrubbing make-up off of my face, I arrive late to the first day of training. Great, I have three days to transform me from farm girl to warrior, and I'm late.

I look around the room, scanning the stations. The Careers are all at the weapons stations – that's enough to put me off going there. I watch Howel practicing with a sword. He's not as good as I expected, which is a welcome surprise. Maybe the Careers this year aren't the same ruthless killers that they had been the previous years. My hopes are broken by Zozi's arrows as she fires them relentlessly into a bull's eye.

I head to the one station that I know I'll be good at – edible plants. If I start confidently, I might be able to do better at the other stations. The only other person at the station is Abigayl, who seems pretty harmless. She smiles at me as I sit down beside her.

"Hi," she says. "Elsia, is it?"

I nod.

"I thought so," she says. "You're from Eleven – aren't you? Can you help me out with these berries? I can't get my head around it."

I hesitate. What if I gave her information that she could use against me? Abi doesn't seem like that kind of person though. It's always better to make friends than enemies, I guess. "Sure," I say, eventually.

Abi's eyes light up as I explain to her about the various different plants. She learns very quickly, and can tell apart the almost identical plants. By the time lunch starts, she's almost an expert. I wonder if she really needed my help after all. And I've learnt nothing. After lunch, I'll head straight for some weapons training – I won't let any Career put me off.

I follow Abi to a lunch table, noticing that she avoids Luck, who I was sure that she'd ally herself with.

"Well, at least the food is good here," she comments as she sits down.

I look at my own plate. Back at home we'd only have tiny portions of stews and boiled vegetables that all blended into unidentifiable sludge. We'd eat it, of course – it was the only food we had. Here, the food is brilliant, but it feels like an insult. It's the Capitol rubbing it in our faces that they're better than us.

"Yeah," I say. "I think it's been guaranteed that my last meal will be the best one of my life."

"Only if you die on the first day," Abi says matter-of-factly. "Otherwise it's likely that your last meal will be some form of nuts and berries."

"Thanks for that," I say with a hint of a smile.

"Unless you win of course," Abi says.

"And what are the chances of that happening?"

"One in twenty-four," Abi says. "Same as everyone else."

"More like one in a million," I comment.

"Hey – you'll be able to feed yourself, that's more than a lot of people will be able to do. You've seen games in the past. It's not always a Career that wins."

"But to win I'd have to kill at least one person," I say. "And I really can't do that. Mentally or physically."

"Not necessarily," Abi says.

"Who am I kidding? I'm not going to get far enough to have to worry about that."

Abi says nothing, just looks at me with a contemplative smile.

"What?" I ask.

"Why don't we team up? In the arena. If neither of us die at the Cornucopia, obviously."

"I'd just get you killed."

"I'd go mad without company," Abi says. "And I think we'll have a better chance of survival if we're together."

I can't help but smile. The fact that anyone would want to ally with me comes as a surprise but it's a pleasant surprise.

"I'd be up for that."

"Then we're agreed," Abi says, holding out her hand.

"See you in the arena," I say.

We shake hands.

**

* * *

**

**Raquelle Threld – District 6**

I feel like I'm enjoying training a bit too much. Although I'm abysmal at survival skills, I really impressed at the sword station. It scares me how naturally it came to me. Looks like I'll be heading for a sword at the Cornucopia. That's a bit of a problem, as swords are always pretty far away, if not inside the horn. I'll have to be quick.

I sit at a table by myself. Most people are sat with their district partners or friends they made during training. I don't really want allies, and I definitely don't want Connor as an ally. He's sitting with Joard, the greasy kid from Seven. When I turn back, there's someone sitting at my table with me.

"Hey!"

I recognise Yve, the girl from Seven, with her big hair and bright clothes. I look down at my food.

"You looked lonely," Yve says, obviously not getting the hint that I don't want her there. "How's training going?"

"Well," I mutter.

"I saw you with that sword – pretty damn impressive!" Yve grins. "I can't do anything like that."

"What have you been doing then?" I say. Yve's clearly not going anywhere.

Yve shrugs. "Did some fishing, got the string all tangled. Almost hit another tribute when I tried archery."

I smile. It doesn't sound like Yve's going to be a contender for victor. "What are you doing after lunch?" I ask.

"Dunno. Whatever I feel like."

"Can't you use an axe, being from Seven?"

"That's a good idea!" Yve said. "I might be naturally gifted."

"I don't think it works like that..."

"Hey! Why don't you try axing with me?"

"I... um..."

"Come on! It'll be fun."

There's no use in arguing as Yve grins at me.

**

* * *

**

**Michael Bijoque – District 4**

The three days of training rush by in a blur. I didn't really need to do much – I mostly messed around and watched the other tributes, much to Howel's dismay. I don't think he likes me, and I think that the feeling is mutual. He's so strict and critical, and not really that good. I though District One tributes were better than that.

The girl was, actually. She could throw knives like an expert, and her trapping skills were incredible. She'll be a useful one to have on our side. District Two boy was good with maces and hammers, and Zozi was awesome with a bow. Eli turned out to be pretty good with a sword. I'll make sure to keep her with me in the arena – we get on well and can fight.

Not many of the other tributes really stood out. Well, Luck was good with a bow, but I doubt he'll get one at the Cornucopia, he's not fast enough. Raquelle could use a sword. Other than that, no one else seemed that good with weapons. None of the survival stuff is worth anything if you can't fight. You don't win the Hunger Games by hiding in mud.

Of course, I'm dying to know what scores everyone got after training. It's going to be on television soon, so I race upstairs. I'm not going to miss that.

Eli's already in front of the TV when I get there, a bowl of savoury snacks perched on her lap. When she offers me the bowl, I grin and take a handful as I slump down onto the sofa beside her.

"How d'ya think you did?" she asks after hastily swallowing a mouthful.

"Deliberately held it back," I reply. "I think it'll be about an eight."

"You can do better than that!"

"'course I can! But I don't want to score the highest and then be perceived as the biggest threat. I still want to be taken seriously as a career though."

"You will," Eli says confidently. "I've been watching various shows where they talked about the reapings and chariots." She gestures at the television with the remote. "They've already got you down as "charming and witty", and apparently you've got eager sponsors already."

"That's great! I've got my interview angle sorted then," I say, then remember her. "What about you? What did they say?"

"Let's just say that it was a positive response." Eli's smile looks like it's about to break wider at any moment. She's done well, I can tell. "Shouldn't have much of a problem finding sponsors."

"Then we both just have to survive the bloodbath and we're set to win!"

The television shows the seal of Panem. The results are in. Both Eli's eyes and mine snap to the screen.

"Well let's see what the Gamemakers think," Eli says with a smirk.

The report starts with a few brief clips from the reapings and the chariots. I spot myself on one of them, in the chariot, waving at the crowd. I look so full of myself. Of course, that's how I felt then, but I'm not sure how much of it was me and how much was the effect that the crowd's cheers had on me. Still, I'd enjoyed it, and it was probably the last thing I'll enjoy for a while.

Eventually, the scores are on screen. District One first. We'd agreed to team up them, although that was basically agreed by default before the games even begin. Howel gets a seven. If he was a normal tribute, I'd label him as a potential threat. As a Career, that's really not great. Does he really know what he's getting himself into? Maybe he should have waited a year or two before volunteering. Cerra gets a ten. That's a very good score, almost making up for Howel's.

District Two, our other allies. Both of them score nines, and I'm not surprised. Zozi had a deadly aim with those arrows. In fact, I'm amazed that she didn't score higher. Maybe she was holding back, like me.

Taking a break from Careers, the scores for District Three are displayed. Luck Barnes – that geeky kid with the glasses – got a seven. Maybe it wasn't just a fluke when I saw him doing well at the archery station. Abigayl – or Abi, as she seems to be referred to as now, got a three. She won't last for long.

Then it's us. Eli and I wait with bated breath, then... I get an eight – exactly what I wanted. Eli gets a ten for her swordplay, and she punches the air when her score is displayed. That means that none of the Careers are super-exceptional, but it still looks like we'll make a tough team in the arena. Now to see the other tributes.

Five – the lovestruck couple. They both score fours. I saw them at training. Uwel seemed to be best at food preparation – distilling water and all that. Not exactly a threat.

The mayor's son from Six scores a two. I'm amazed he didn't get a one really. Raquelle Threld gets an eight – Career level. I'm shocked. I thought she was good, but not _that_ good. We've got Eli though. In a sword fight, I know who I'd put my money on.

The Sevens got a three and a five, with the five going to Yve. I didn't get a good look at her in training, so I have no idea where her 'talent' lies.

The twins from District Eight are a surprise. I'd been looking at them as cute and harmless, but the girl gets a seven and the boy gets a six. I have vague memories of watching the girl at the hand to hand combat station. I'm not sure about Cray though, he just seemed to be following her around.

Both of Nine's tributes are young, and neither of them scores more than a four. Same goes for the thirteen year-old from Ten. Lecks Jan – who I remember as being an orange-faced moron with all the charm of a toenail – manages to get slightly better, scoring a five. God knows what he got the five for – he seemed to mess up everything I saw him do.

Eleven and Twelve are pretty standard. Elsia and her fellow tribute score sixes – probably in edible plants, knowing Eleven. The Twelve girl gets a three. It's Samkin Hopp who's the surprise of the night though. Not much is known about him yet. He stays silent and withdrawn at meals, and I never saw him doing anything during training. But he gets a nine – higher than me. I wonder what tricks he's got up his sleeve...

Eli turns off the television, and turns to me, smiling. It's a real mixed bag this year, from the downright terrible to the rather good. We should be able to handle them though, with the rest of the Careers' help. I might actually have a chance at winning these games.

I'll have to hold onto that thought to keep me smiling through the interview tomorrow.

**

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**

**Rhian Stonat – District 8**

I watch the interviews with bated breath from backstage, waiting for my own. They all go by so quickly that I can barely focus on working out what I'm going to say. I give up, and just watch.

Howel seems to have gone for the 'freaking scary' attitude, and it works. He answers in one or two word answers, until one question triggers him to go off on a rant about how small and weak and worthless human beings are. I can tell from his face that he believes it.

The girl from District One is cold and aloof, and the boy from Two is stupid and tough. When Zozi comes onto the stage in a completely black suit, Caesar asks her the question that everyone's been trying to work up the courage for during training.

"You've probably heard the rumours by now, so let's hear what you've got to say. Is Abigayl any relation to you?"

"Yes," Zozi answers. "She's my sister."

"Wow - what a twist! How come..?"

"Can we just leave it at that, please?"

Backstage, all eyes – and the camera – are on Abi. She doesn't seem to react to Zozi's confession. It's clear that she already knew who she was.

The buzzer goes off, calling Luck onto the stage. They were clearly going for 'nerdy yet endearing' with him as he spews out technobabble that no one understands. Abi goes on after him, and refuses to answer any questions about her sister. It's clear that they're opposites, or at least presented as that. Abi is innocent and flowery, Zozi sullen and miserable.

Michael successfully wins over the Capitol, getting the best audience reaction of the night. He laughs and jokes with Caesar, obviously understanding Capitol humour. He'll be one of the favourites, I can tell. Eli will be as well. She has a similar approach to Michael, smiling and laughing.

Uwel and Hero aren't allowed on together, although they want to. It's clear what angle they're going for, and they play the star-crossed lovers card as many times as they can. I know it's not an act, but it does get a bit dull. Still, I hear the sound of sobs from the audience.

Connor from Six is arrogant and spoilt, but seems to make a good impression. He's the closest that they've had to a Capitol kid in the arena. He talks like they do and acts like they do. He'll get sponsors, if he survives the bloodbath.

After Raquelle's enthusiastic interview, it's Joard and Yve's go. Joard doesn't answer many questions, but Yve is bubbly and fun. As she leaves stage, still grinning, I realise it's time for District Eight – Cray and me.

Cray goes on first. I find it hard to watch as he chats so pleasantly to Caesar. Doesn't he realise that this man will be watching us fight to the death? I hope that he's just being nice so that we can get sponsors. If Cray gets a reputation as 'the nice one' then I can drop all pleasantries and be as harsh and bitter as I like during my interview.

Three minutes drag by and the buzzer sounds. I take a deep breath and stride onto stage.

**

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**Howel Sela – District 1**

With the interview over, I throw my jacket onto the floor and collapse onto the bed. I need a good night's sleep before the games tomorrow. I can hardly wait though; I know that the excitement will keep me up all night.

I'll need to make a kill at the bloodbath. Something brutal, something cruel to make sure that the audience remembers me. Maybe one of the twins or one of the couple from Five. Not Abi though, I need to keep Zozi on my side. As always, One, Two and Four have decided to work together. I still don't entirely trust the two from District Four though. I'll see how useful they turn out to be.

**

* * *

**

**Final Tribute list:**

**1 – Howel Sela, Cerra Gell  
2 - ?, Zozi Dowl  
3 – Luck Barnes, Abigayl Dowl  
4 – Michael Bijoque, Eli Joan  
5 – Uwel Maggs, Hero Fensit  
6 – Connor Togilvy-Daviton, Raquelle Threld  
7 –Joard Eniss, Yve Hewitt  
8 – Cray Stonat, Rhian Stonat  
9 - ?, ?  
10 – Lecks Jan, Lidi Wen  
11 - ?, Elsia Bunn  
12 – Samkin Hopp, ?  
**

**(Guess which ones are going to die...)**


	5. Let The Games Begin

**Abigayl Dowl – District 3**

My token is a necklace. A small silver cross, given to me by my grandparents. I fiddle with it as I wait for the games to begin.

I'm in my outfit now. It really makes me wonder what the arena's going to be like. Tight hide trousers and a long red tunic top with a thick belt on top of it. A black jacket made of what feels like waterproof fabric. And most importantly, knee-high leather boots. They feel like they're really good quality, fur lined. It almost makes me feel safe.

I swear under my breath as the glass comes down over me. I'm not claustrophobic, and the fear that fills me definitely isn't from being in the small area. As soon as the glass goes, I'll be in the arena, at the Cornucopia. There's going to be a bloodbath. I've just got to hope that I can survive it.

As I'm thinking about it, the lift starts.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-seventh Hunger Games begin!"

**

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**Michael Bijoque – District 4**

The arena that I arrive in is... interesting to say the least. The Cornucopia is in the middle of a field, as it so often is. Beyond it is a vast forest that stretches into the distance. That much was to be expected. There's always a forest in the Hunger Games. The edge of the forest is no more than a mile away from the Cornucopia – clearly that's where they expect most of the tributes to go. I glance over my shoulder. Behind me the meadow turns into hills, out of which rises a giant cliff. Even from here I can make out the gaping cave mouths in the uneven cliff face. The forest curves round to what I guess is the south, thinning as it approaches to cliff. To the north is the most impressive thing of all. A huge stone fortress, small on the horizon. I've never seen a building in the games before. A smirk makes its way onto my lips. They might of as well as called it 'Career Castle'.

Everywhere is perfect, everywhere is beautiful. It's a fairytale landscape, ready to be stained with the blood of the innocent. Some twisted fairytale, that is.

I locate my teammates. Eli isn't far from me, Howel and Zozi stand opposite. The boy from Two and the Girl from one are to my right. We're nicely spread out for an attack on all sides. The tributes I'm between are Joard and Rhian – I won't have any trouble with them.

* * *

**Elsia Bunn – District 11**

Abi. Where's Abi? I need to find her. My frantic eyes dart around the circle, struggling to see with the sun attacking them. I finally spot her, half obscured by the golden Cornucopia. She's opposite me, about as far away from me as possible. I'm not going to run to her, it's too dangerous. As soon as the games start, I'm putting as much distance between myself and the horn as I can.

I've seen what happens to people like me if they try to get supplies, and it's definitely not pretty. Although there is a bottle of water lying not too far away, I'm not going to risk running for it. I'm not quick; I need as much of a head start towards the forest as possible.

This has to be the slowest minute of my life.

* * *

**Raquelle Threld – District 6**

I saw it the moment I surfaced and couldn't believe my luck. A sword, lying close to the horn. I didn't think that there'd be any weapons on the ground, but clearly I was wrong. It seems to be a well-stuffed Cornucopia really, with weapons, food and supplies spilling out around the whole circle. Makes it more tempting, I guess.

When the gong rings out, I dart towards the sword, adrenaline pulsing through me.

* * *

**Uwel Maggs – District 5**

I don't leave my post when the gong sounds, until my eyes find Hero. She's running towards me from the other side of the circle. Her eyes are wide as her feet pound against the ground, and – without thinking – I run to meet her.

This is the Cornucopia, the site of the bloodbath, and we're running into the middle of it.

Howel meets Hero before I do, tackling her to the ground. He hasn't even got a weapon, he must have headed straight for her.

I yell her name as he pins her down. She struggles, but can't break free from the career as his hands close around her throat. My name comes from her mouth, dry and choked.

I leap at Howel without thinking. I knock him off of her, but I'm accompanied by a terrible snapping sound as he twists her neck.

She's perfectly still, her wide eyes staring at the sky without seeing. Her head lolls at a strange angle and her skin is pale. Dead. Hero's... dead? I stare at her motionless body. It was a quick death, the best she could have hoped for in the games but... why? Why this soon?

I scream and launch myself at Howel, although I have no idea what I'm doing. He'll win, he's a Career, but I don't care. I just want to hurt him.

My fist collides with Howel's face, but he rolls me over so I'm pinned. Perhaps he'll kill me as quickly as he killed her.

But then I look up at his face. He's grinning. Grinning and laughing. His face is twisted into some macabre mask of glee. He can't seriously find this fun? How sick are these Careers?

His hand finds three darts that are jutting out of the grass. As I stare into his manic eyes, I know that this is where I die.

* * *

**Rhian Stonat – District 8**

There's a backpack not far from me. I should find Cray first, but I'm useless if I've got nothing to protect him with. He's not too far away, and is running toward the forest like he should. Good, I can get the pack.

I run forward to grab it. In front of me, a girl falls down, dead and bleeding. It's the girl from District Twelve. I don't look up to see who killed her, and my hand closes on the bag.

It's heavier than I thought, and I sling it onto my back as I run, following Cray towards the forest. I'm shaking as I run with my back to the Careers. Hopefully there's better prey for them still at the Cornucopia.

I still don't believe I'm safe until I reach the edge of the trees.

* * *

**Luck Barnes – District 2**

I can't see Abi. That's not good. But what I can see is a bow and quiver, not too far away. If I can get to that then I've got a huge advantage.

I run, awkwardly like always, towards the bow, trying to block out the violence around me. Out of the corner of my eye I see Michael slitting Joard's throat. People are actually dying here. Maybe it wasn't a great idea to run for the bow.

My hand reaches it, but so does someone else's. I look up into the cold eyes of Zozi Dowl. She smiles and yanks the bow out of my grasp, burning my palm.

"Run, Barnsey, Run," she hisses, notching an arrow.

I don't need to be told twice. If a Career spares your life, you run for it. I turn tail and flee towards the forest, like everyone else seems to. I reach down and grab a loaf of bread as I go. In the confusion I've lost Abi again, so I might as well take a souvenir.

* * *

**Raquelle Threld – District 6**

I reach the sword before any of the Careers and spin around, my back to the Cornucopia. Hopefully, no one will attack me if I'm armed, and lots of the Careers are still weaponless. My eyes fall on the girl from Ten – no older than thirteen and standing nearby. I guess my first kill should be an easy one.

My palm is sweaty against the hilt of the sword. I can't seriously be considering killing that girl. No, I must. The sooner they die the quicker it's over. That girl's not going to make it out of the bloodbath. I might as well be the one that kills her. I need sponsors. I need an edge. I need to kill.

The blade slides neatly into her stomach. Her eyes widen and meet mine. Her mouth drops open with a gasp rather than a scream. It might not be a fatal wound. I drag the sword upward, wincing at the feel of flesh tearing against the blade. Blood drips from the blade as I tug it out from the torn remnants of her flesh, and the girl collapses.

Ok, I just killed someone. Now let's get out.

There's a first aid kit not far away. I grab it and run away from the Cornucopia just as the boy from Two notices me.

I feel someone following my footsteps and I speed up, sprinting towards the woods. My balance is off because of the weight of the sword. I can't risk looking back.

My pursuer is right behind me now. I'm not quick, but the boy from Two shouldn't have been able to match my speed. I curse and spin around, sword at the ready.

And I'm greeted by the grinning face of Yve. How the hell did _she_ escape the bloodbath?

"I got an axe!" she says, waving a small hatchet.

My mouth drops open. She can't seriously... I shake my head to clear it. I can kill her, just like the girl from Ten. My mind darts back to the kill and nausea rushes over me. A bit delayed, but I was glad that I had some kind of reaction to the kill. To the life that I ended. To the child that I stole from a family... I stagger forward and Yve catches me. I look up into her smiling eyes.

"Allies?" she asks.

I nod and she takes my hand, leading me towards the forest. She might not be the best ally I could have but at least she's someone. I think I might need to keep an ally by my side to keep me from going insane.

* * *

**Lecks Jan – District 10**

I just saw the girl from my district die. That wasn't nice. She was only thirteen. The girl that killed her wasn't even a Career – how could she have been so heartless? Oh well, at least it's not me that's dead.

I've managed to get a backpack. That's all I could afford to get from the Cornucopia. As soon as the gong sounded, all of my plans of getting the best weapon in the horn turned to dust. Those Careers are scary when they get going. That Howel kid killed Hero before he was even armed! They've taken down the girl from District Twelve and the boys from Eleven and Nine. If they get me then that's three in a row. No, they're not going to get me!

I run towards the cliff face. I've seen what they put in forests in past games, and it's not good. The castle looks cool but that's Career territory before they've even got there. The cliffs look quite far away, but not too far. The rocks should give me places to hide.

I'm only going to hide for today. Then I'll kill the Careers, and be as awesome as everyone in Capitol wants me to be. I'll show them. I've probably got a killer weapon in my backpack.

That tiny glimmer of hope helps me keep running.

* * *

**Uwel Maggs – District 5**

Howel can afford to take his time killing me. He's confident won't be attacked – he's an armed Career. And he just killed my girlfriend.

He traces patterns on my cheeks with the very tip of a dart. I feel it bite in, feel the skin bleed. I cry out in pain, but the movement just makes the dart dig in deeper. He's laughing. It's horrible. I want it to stop.

He slams the dart into my cheek and I yell as pain roars through me. I can feel the tip of the dart in my mouth. The blood's seeping in. As Howel rips the dart out the blood flows freely into my mouth and onto my cheek. It's not a large wound but it's gone all the way through. I gag as blood trickles down my throat.

The tip of the dart hovers by my eye. I try to stop myself from blinking but I do and my eyelashes tickle the dart. A tear of blood drops into my eye. For a split second my vision goes red and I slam my eyes shut. It doesn't stop it from stinging.

Howel is laughing. When I open my eyes again he's pulled the dart away and is now turning it over and over in his hand in mock inspection.

"It's going to take a long time to kill someone with this," Howel says. "It's not just a matter of slitting your throat."

He aggravates the wound on my cheek with the dart. I grit my teeth as pain flares up again.

"Just kill me," I whisper.

"You stopped me from killing her how I wanted to," Howel hisses. "I'll do whatever I want."

He's talking about Hero. He didn't mean to just snap her neck. What did he want? Anger boils inside of me, but I can't do anything – he's got me pinned.

I close my eyes and try to think of Hero. Try to think of the time we shared together back in District Five. It numbs the pain a little. Then the pain stops.

Am I dead? No, if I can think that, then it means I'm alive. As I open my eyes, I'm hauled to my feet. Howel's lying on the ground, groaning, and I'm looking into the black eyes of Samkin Hopp. He raises an eyebrow as he looks at me and then grabs my arm. He's sprinting away, dragging me behind him, before I even work out what's going on. Samkin must have hit Howel off of me. Why? Why did he have to? I wanted to die.

* * *

**Abigayl Dowl – District 3**

I'm at the Cornucopia. In the chaos and blood, no one seems to have noticed me. I wonder how much longer my luck will last.

Obviously for a while longer, as I find a perfectly serviceable axe lying on the ground, next to a bandage and a backpack. I grab all three, slinging the pack onto my back, and get ready to run when something catches my leg. I slam into the ground, my head ringing. It's a hand, a hand around my leg. A Career. Damn.

I roll over to face him, swinging out blindly with an axe that I don't know how to use. It's the boy from Two, a heavy hammer in his free hand. He'll kill me without thinking twice.

I kick at him and scramble free, unable to climb to my feet with my hands full. He brings the hammer down at me, trying to crush my ribs, but I roll aside. The vibrations from the hammer reach me as it crashes into the ground beside me. He pulls it back, ready to attack again, when he stops. His whole body jerks forward and the hammer drops. I stare in horror and relief as blood trickles from his mouth. Then he collapses, revealing two silver arrows in his back.

"Get the hell away from my sister," Zozi utters to his corpse as she lowers her bow.

Not Zozi. Anyone but Zozi. I can't handle this right now, not after... I'm being ridiculous. Zozi just saved my life. I have to be thankful for that. If she hadn't been there then I'd have been crushed.

She stands by me, bow ready, until the Cornucopia has been abandoned by all but the Careers and the dead. It's only then that she finally offers me her hand. I'm still hesitant to take it, but I eventually let her pull me to my feet. I clamber up, still slightly stunned from my fall. I'd almost forgotten about the axe in my hand until I look down.

The Careers begin to gather around us but I stand my ground, holding my head high. Howel doesn't look entirely with it, holding his head and leaning against the giant golden horn. The District One girl has found some throwing knives, which are tucked into her belt. Using the blade of one as a mirror, she fixes her hair. Part of me is happy when I see the Fours looking at the bodies of the dead with some concern. Maybe it wasn't all a show in the Capitol. Michael has a long spear and a jagged knife in his belt – he probably knows how to use both well from fishing. Eli has settled on an elegantly curving sword, not what I'd have expected. I'm just glad that none of them are targeting me. Howel shoots me a glare, but Zozi counters with a sterner one.

"She's staying," she snaps, before Howel has a chance to speak. "We're a man down, aren't we?"

"Because you shot him," says the blonde girl.

"He should have known better," Zozi says. "But Abi's definitely staying. She's from Three – they're smart anyway, and this girl's a genius. If anyone has a problem with that, then I'll shoot them – alright?"

She retrieves her arrows from the boy's corpse, and I realise that I've become a Career. Well, at least I'm part of their pack. The thought horrifies me. I know what Careers do. I can't do that! I can't hunt down the other tributes – I can barely fight! But the choices are staying or dying, so I might as well stick with the strongest group.

I sit down and open my backpack to put the bandage in it. Inside is a waterproof coat, a torch and a dagger. Not bad, really. I make sure that the dagger is well hidden. The other Careers aren't as trustworthy as my sister, and I wouldn't even trust her as far as I can throw her. Which isn't very far at all, by the way.

"Howel, you're an idiot," Cerra says, placing a hand on the Cornucopia. "What were you thinking, trying to kill that kid with a dart? You should have just snapped his neck. It's amazing that you weren't killed."

"I already had to cut one kill short," Howel mutters.

"That doesn't matter," Cerra snaps. "The bloodbath isn't for fun – you'll have time for all that later in the games."

Then the cannons go off. I grow tenser with each one. Each booming shot is the last cry of a life. I look up at the Careers and know that they are responsible for most of those shots. They seem almost proud to hear their achievements being recognised. I just count the cannons. There are seven of them.

"So, who's left?" Michael calls out, poking one of the corpses with his foot.

"Quite a few," Howel replies. "We didn't do well."

"Who've we got?" Eli says. "Twelve girl, Eleven girl, Hero, Nine boy and Ten girl."

"Joard," Michael says. "I got him."

I'm relieved to not see Elsia's body amongst the dead. It only makes me feel guiltier about abandoning our alliance. I'll find her as soon as I can get rid of the Careers. Well, not get rid of them – escape from them.

"Which one's Hero?" Cerra asks.

"Uwel's girl," Howel spits. "Well, she's his ex now."

"Who got the Ten?" Michael asks. "She's pretty cut up."

"I saw that," Eli says. "It was the short girl with glasses. She managed to get a sword, and it turns out that she's pretty brutal."

Michael winces as he looks at the body. "Okay, I think we've got to look out for her."

"Who else is there?" Howel asks. "Who got away?"

"Luck," I say. It had surprised me that he hadn't been killed, I thought for sure that he'd be one of the first to go.

"He's unarmed," Zozi adds. "I saw to that."

"Uwel and Samkin," Howel says. "And I'm going to be the one to kill them."

"The twins," I say, trying to recall the names and faces of everyone. The training, the interviews, it already feels so long ago. "Connor – the rich kid from Six. Elsia, Lecks, Yve and the girl from Nine. I think that's it."

"Okay," Zozi says, watching as the others collect the leftovers from the Cornucopia and load their backpacks. "That's eleven of them, six of us. We should be able to do this."

Howel snorts. "Of course we can. We're going to win."

Silence settles over the group. It's the use of the word 'we'. Each Career knows that they're only fighting for one person, and that's themselves. Alliances are just things to be used and then thrown out. And I imagine that I'll be the first to go when the time comes.

* * *

**Sorry if the POV switches got a bit confusing - there'll only be two or three POVs per chapter after this.**

**Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed and/or favourited this story, it really means a lot.**

**As always, I'd love to know your opinions! Who do you want to win?**


	6. The Castle

**Rhian Stonat – District 8**

I've got to put as much distance between us and the Careers as possible. We head south through the forest, as far away from that blasted castle as possible. The forest's beautiful. Some trees have silver bark and purple leaves; others look like giant oaks that shimmer golden in certain lights. All of the ferns and bushes of brightly coloured berries look perfect. And I can't trust it at all.

At least this arena seems to function with night and day, as the sky has faded to a dusty purple above the trees. I don't know how long I've been walking, but the initial adrenaline is beginning to wear off, and my feet are finally telling me how much they ache. I cave to Cray's pleas, and stop to rest on a perfect silver tree stump.

We've been mostly silent on our journey, but he sparks a conversation as I pry off my boots.

"Who do you want to win?" he asks.

"You," I answer. It's obvious, he should know.

"Realistically," he says. "Who do you think _will_ win?"

"Still you," I say. "I refuse to consider anything else."

He laughs weakly. "Then I think it'll be you."

His words sting. He doesn't really think that we have a chance. We do. We'll make it through, no matter what.

To distract myself, I finally swing the blue backpack off. I open it and inspect the contents. A sleeping bag, not bad. Beneath it is a penknife and a bottle of water. Thank goodness. I'd completely forgotten about trying to find a water supply and this is a litre bottle. It'll keep us going for tomorrow at least. No food though. Not that I need it. I stuffed myself with as much as possible before the games began, to try to keep myself going for as long as possible.

I raise the water bottle to my lips and take a drink. The water's surprisingly still pretty cold, and soothes my dry throat brilliantly.

"Hey! Not so much!" Cray shouts, and I stop drinking.

I look at the bottle. Well, that's a quarter of it gone. I put the lid back on and throw it to Cray. He takes smalls sips from it, not taking anywhere near as much as I did. Smiling, He passes it back.

"We're still alive," he says as I put the bottle back in the bag.

"Isn't that obvious?"

"It's a bit of a shock," Cray says with a laugh. "I thought a Career would get us."

"It's still not much of an achievement," I say. "We haven't survived the night yet."

"I bet that we make it."

"How much?"

"I'll let you have the sleeping bag tomorrow." He smiles.

"And what makes you think that you're getting it tonight?"

His only answer is a smile. He's right of course.

* * *

**Raquelle Threld – District 6**

Yve didn't shut up once as we walked through the forest, but after a while I didn't mind. She isn't bad company, she's funny, likable, and after a while I was talking as much as her. If anyone heard us, then they didn't attack. Really, we're a quite well-stocked little alliance compared to some of the kids we saw. I've got my sword, Yve has an axe, I have a first aid kit and Yve managed to get a backpack.

The sound of running water reaches my ears and I run towards it, relief running through me when I find a small pond with a trickle of a river reaching away from it. Like the woods, the pond is picturesque, with open water lilies floating on the surface. There's one electric light beside it, which is good as it's beginning to grow dark. The glow from the light dances on the water, but it doesn't seem to stretch far enough that it could alert other tributes to the presence of the pool. I glance at Yve, whose eyes light up as she sees the pond.

"Well, this seems to be a good place to stop," I say.

Yve nods in agreement and we settle at the edge of the water. I wash the remnants of dried blood off of my sword and with it I try to wash off the memories of my kill. I'm glad that I've had Yve's babbling conversation to distract me from remembering it. The girl's face is still in my mind. I doubt that it will ever leave me.

Just to rub it in more, I hear the anthem start and peer up through the trees to see the death recap in the sky.

"Time to see who made it," Yve says.

The first face belongs to the boy from Two – that brutish Career. That's a surprise. I thought that all of the Careers would make it. The next face is Hero from Five. I feel a pang of sadness when it's not joined by Uwel's. That means he's still alive somewhere, without her. Connor's face doesn't make an appearance. How he survived is a mystery to me. Joard - the boy from Yve's district – is next, but she doesn't have much of a reaction to his death. Next is the boy from Nine, and I know who's going to follow him. The girl from Ten, her face burnt into the sky like it is in my mind. She's so young. She's followed by the boy from Eleven and the girl from Twelve, and then the sky goes black.

I shiver at the thought of all those people dead. I saw them all, alive and well, just yesterday. I remember the crying parents at the reapings, parents who may never smile again now. When I think about it practically, that wasn't a very big bloodbath. It won't be long before they spring some kind of natural disaster on us.

"Let's open the lucky bag then," Yve says, sensing the silence that's growing after the death recap.

I nod, and Yve slips the grey backpack off of her back.

"I'm hoping for food," she says, unzipping the bag.

Yve's wishes seem to be granted. Two packets of crackers sit at the top of the bag, along with what appears to be five cereal bars. She places the food on the floor as my stomach growls, and I realise just how hungry I am. Yve pulls three plastic cups out of the bag and a small knife. It doesn't look like a weapon, it's a kitchen knife, but could still cause some nasty damage. The last thing out is an empty water bottle. Looks like we definitely got the food pack. Sleeping bags and tents would have been nice, but now we're pretty well equipped – food, weapons and a water source.

Yve picks up two of the cups and fills them with water from the pool. Cautiously, I take one from her.

"What if it's poisonous?" I ask.

"It's a spring," Yve points out. "It should be clean enough."

"Yes, but the Gamemakers might have..."

Yve places her cup on the light, illuminating the water. Except from a few particles floating in it, it was clear.

"See that?" she says. "If it was a trap, it would be perfectly clear. As it is, I doubt that it's going to give you any diseases. Bit of pond never hurt anyone."

I smile, and take a sip of the water. It tastes fine, cool and refreshing, and welcome after the day's steady trek. We open the packet of crackers, and both eat a few. Without the water, they'd have been far too dry, but they're filling and not unpleasant.

I fall asleep tonight feeling safe and full.

* * *

**Howel Sela – District 1**

We arrive at the castle shortly after the faces have faded from the sky. I still don't think that we should have come here. Everyone expects the Careers to take the castle, so they're all going to stay as far away from it as possible. We could have found somewhere in the forest, or a cave, and had a much better location to hunt from. But no, all of the others liked the idea of the castle. What's the use of having my tactician's brain if the others are too stupid to agree with me? I need them though - I couldn't survive on my own.

The main gates are open when we reach the castle, but I call for the others to stop before they go charging in. The castle's going to be trapped. I know it.

"Abigayl," I say, refusing to call her by the shortened name that the others have adopted. "Go in first."

"Why?" Zozi snaps. "If we're using anyone as a human minesweeper, it should be you."

I glare at her. Her protection of her sister will be her downfall, I'll see to that. Abigayl provides nothing useful to our group other than her ability to carry supplies. She's stopped flinching away from us now, thanks to the irritating friendliness of the Fours.

Abigayl walks into the castle though. Clearly she can tell who's in charge here. She wanders around the hallway, but nothing happens other than the lights springing to life above her head. Relieved, the others follow her in.

The castle's interior is lavishly decorated, with paintings, statues and antique furniture. Thick, patterned rugs lie on the stone floor. I really have never seen anything like it in any previous games. The others seem to forget that they're in the games as they explore it, not thinking twice about traps. I manage to stay a bit more level-headed. The Gamemakers have found a great way to reduce the risk of the Careers. They've given them a home that they'll refuse to leave.

The castle has three storeys, all with large, spacious rooms. There's a trapdoor in one room that none of us could open. We all feel a little bit stupid for bringing so much with us from the Cornucopia. The place is fully stocked. In the dining room is a table with enough silverware for six people laid out on it, and the kitchen is full of food. There's even an armoury, although there's not that much in there. It's all ridiculous. This place takes all of the fun out of the Hunger Games.

What will this mean for sponsors? I have no idea what they'll send, if they send anything at all. We've got enough food to last a month and decent enough weapons. We don't need shelter or sleeping bags. I guess we don't have medicine, but as long as we stay in the castle we probably won't get ill or badly hurt. Of course, as soon as we split up we'll leave the castle, and we'll need sponsors then. We don't want to lose their attention, even when we don't need their gifts.

There are enough rooms with feather beds for us all to have one each, but the Dowls choose to stay together. I scour all of the rooms for traps, not just my own. I can't afford to lose any allies. Disappointingly, I find nothing. Looks like we're set for a life of luxury in these games.

Neither I nor Michael from Four could fall asleep, and I find him wandering the corridors on the second floor. He's examining the paintings that line the walls, and – for the first time – I truly look at them. They're portraits of previous victors.

"What do you think?" Michael asks.

"Of the pictures?" I ask.

Michael laughs. "No, of the castle."

"It's absurd," I say without hesitation. "This is the Hunger Games. Survival of the fittest in a wild and hostile environment."

"And this takes the fun out of it?"

I hesitate. "Basically."

He laughs again. He does that a lot. It's annoying.

"Hey, follow me," he says. "I've found somewhere that you'll like."

Reluctantly, I follow him downstairs. He opens a door and leads me into a large room, filled with packed bookcases. A smile creeps onto my lips.

"It's a library," Michael says proudly.

"I can see that," I say, leaving him at the door.

I stroll through the aisles of books, looking at their titles as I go. They're all gorgeous, leather-bound books, classics mostly. I spot several that I've been meaning to read, and many more that sound interesting. For a moment, I'm just as lost in wonder as the others were when they first entered the castle. It quickly passes.

"There's several that could be useful to us," I call back to Michael. "Guides to medicinal plants, that kind of thing."

"Sounds good," Michael says. "Look, Howel, you do realise that we know we're in the games, don't you? I know how you feel about the castle, and I'm tempted to agree with you, but we're still taking this seriously."

"You better be."

"We'll do our first hunt tomorrow," Michael says with a smile. "But for now, just relax a bit."

* * *

**Sorry if this chapter was a bit slow. Quite a few of the next chapters are going to have lots of conversation and little action. Let's just say that it's character development, not my fear of killing characters off...**

**Thanks for reading – please review! (Anonymous reviews are now allowed. Apologies to anyone who tried to review before but wasn't able to!)**


	7. Breakfast

**Uwel POV**

My face hurts like mad. I can remember Howel laughing as he cut me, and not much past that. I guess I must have slept at some point, because I just woke up. Now I'm staring at the rocky roof of a cave. I remember Samkin – did he bring me here?

I groan and roll over. Not that far away, Samkin sits at the mouth of the cave, staring out across the arena. Between him and me lie the ashes of a fire, a backpack, and a small pile of food. Looks like he managed to get quite a lot from the Cornucopia.

The Cornucopia. Hero's violent death resurfaces in my mind. Suddenly I'm filled with nausea and despair. Tears come from my eyes and there's no stopping them. I knew that she'd have to die – these were the Hunger Games after all – but I wanted to be able to stay with her as she died, rather than run away. I didn't even get to see her body carried off.

Samkin glances over his shoulder at me. "You're awake."

"I think so," I say, still not finding the strength to stand up.

Samkin walks to my side, returning a dagger that he'd been sharpening to his belt. "Good."

There are four daggers tucked into his belt and a few more near to the fire. He was either very lucky at the Cornucopia or has very generous sponsors. Either way, I can't see any reason why he'd want to have me as an ally. He looks like he'd be fine by himself.

"Why did you rescue me?" I ask, looking at his expressionless face.

"Because you were being killed by a madman," Samkin says. "It would have been long and painful. I couldn't leave you to that fate."

"I guess so," I say. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem." Samkin smiles.

"So we're allies now?"

"Looks like it."

I sit up, rubbing my head and taking in my surroundings. Where are we? I vaguely remember seeing a cliff face in the arena. I assume that we're in one of the caves there.

I move my hand to my cheek, and feel the crisp touch of scabs starting to form. I pull my hand away sharply.

"How cut up am I?" I ask.

Samkin laughs hollowly. "Pretty bad. You look a bit like a crazy two year old has scribbled on your face."

"Thanks for that."

Samkin holds a knife out to me and I take it, looking at my reflection in the blade. He's right. Scrawled swirls litter my face, some of the cuts deeper than others. On one cheek I can clearly see the hole where he stabbed me with the knife. It's covered by a crust of blood now. I don't think Howel cut me anywhere else. Grimacing, I try to hand the knife back, but Samkin waves it away.

"Keep it. You're unarmed."

"Thanks," I say, doing what he's done and tucking the knife into my belt.

"It's balanced for throwing, but you should be able to use it as a melee weapon," Samkin explains.

I nod along, but all I need to know is that it's a weapon and it's sharp.

"So, do we have a battle plan?" I ask.

"Hide," Samkin says. "We'll stick to the cliff face, changing caves occasionally. The Gamemakers will probably make this one collapse if we stay in it for too long. If we get attacked, do what you can, but mostly you should leave it to me. Is that okay?"

"Yep, but what about food?"

"We've got what we've got. I saw nesting birds on our way here – they should be edible. It's water that we've got to worry about."

"How much do we have?"

"About five litres. Enough for a few days. We're bound to find a spring or pool in one of these caves, there's plenty of them."

I nod and wander to the mouth of the cave. I'm amazed by how up we are. I can see most of the arena. There's the castle where the Careers are, the forest in the distance, and rocky hills beneath us. Around us is the cliff face, with other caves reachable by narrow paths across the rock. Looking down makes me feel dizzy so I wander back into the cave. Samkin throws me an apple, which I somehow manage to catch.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Fine," I say. "Physically I mean. Mentally, I'm all over the place."

Samkin bites into his apple. "Sorry about Hero."

"Thanks."

I feel hollow now, almost numb at the mention of her.

"How long had you two been..?"

"A year or so," I reply, sitting down. "But I really loved her. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. Guess I was wrong."

I don't know why he brought her up. Maybe he is genuinely interested, maybe he's playing my sob story for sponsors. Either way, thinking about Hero makes me both happy and sad at the same time.

"It feels so weird, knowing she's dead," I continue. "It's like some strange nightmare that I can't wake from." I pause. "Did you kill Howel?"

Samkin shakes his head. "I'm not sure if I even knocked him out."

"I want to kill him," I say. "I know it's impossible, what with him being a Career and me being... me, but he's the one person here that I actually want to see dead."

"I understand," Samkin says, finishing his apple.

He's eaten the whole thing, even the core, leaving only a stalk that he throws onto the ashes. I realise that I should really do the same thing.

"Do you have anyone at home?" I ask.

"Hmm? No, not like that," Samkin says, staring at the roof of the cave. "Just my family to go back to. If I get back of course."

"Well, you've got a better chance than me," I say with a shrug.

"You'd be surprised." He smiles. "By the way, if we survive to the final six, that's when we'll split up. It won't be good if we're left in a situation where we have to kill each other."

The thought makes me feel ill. The thought of killing, or even just fighting, anyone other than Howel makes me feel sick.

"Makes sense," I say.

I think I can trust Samkin. He doesn't seem like the type to stab me in the back, which is my definition of a good ally. And without him, my chances of survival are nonexistent.

**

* * *

**

**Luck POV**

I'm going to die in these woods. I didn't even bother to find a place to hide last night; I just slept out in the open. Shows how good my chances of survival are. If the Careers had been on the prowl, I wouldn't have woken up this morning.

If I'd got that bow, things would be different. I'd be able to hunt and fight off attackers. Now I just have a loaf of bread. No water either.

I tear off some of the bread for a makeshift breakfast and sit in the forest amongst the birdsong. What on earth am I meant to do? I should try and find water, a weapon, Abi... anything! But no, I'm just going to curl up and die like the pitiful excuse for a tribute that I am.

I couldn't protect Abi. I lost her at the Cornucopia, and God knows where she is now. She's not dead though. I hope that she can win. She won't, realistically thinking, but I can always hope.

I swallow the last mouthful of bread and force myself to stand up, tucking the loaf under my arm. I wonder how long it's going to be before I start talking to it, my only companion in the arena. I squint against the sunlight and press on through the forest, not knowing or caring about where I'm going. If I find water, that would be great. If I find a Career, then I'll ask them to kill me.

**

* * *

**

**Elsia POV**

My throat is dry and my cheeks moist with tears when I wake up. From my hiding place amongst the roots of an oak tree, the dappled sunlight in the forest is truly beautiful. There are birds singing, and I can vaguely make out small animals scurrying from tree to tree. Out of all of the arenas they could have thrown me into, this one isn't bad.

I yawn and roll over in the pile of leaves that I used as a makeshift bed and camouflage. I still can't believe that I'm alive. I followed my instincts and turned tail at the Cornucopia, although there were decent items near me. I probably would have died if I'd gone for them. Now, I was going to die because I didn't have them.

I can find food and water in the woods. It shouldn't be too hard. Yesterday, I saw plenty of plants that I recognised, and there had to be water somewhere to support the amount of life around me. It's only if I come up against other tributes or a mutt that I'd be completely useless.

Finding an ally would probably be a good idea but I have no idea where any other tributes are. I lost Abi at the Cornucopia but I didn't see her face in the sky last night. She's still alive and I know that she won't kill me on sight. I need to find someone though, anyone who isn't a Career. At this point in the games, it's very much us against them. Or at least, I hope it is.

I wonder what time the Careers will hunt. Probably at night, although I can't be sure. I tried to walk away from the castle yesterday, but I got lost in the woods, so I might be only a few miles away from it. If I do get killed by a Career, I hope they do it quickly.

Well, that negative thinking's going to get me nowhere. I stand up and stretch my aching limbs. Yesterday, I walked further than I'd ever walked before, and my body seems reluctant to do it again today. But I do need to find a water source. Without one, I'm doomed. I'm already slightly shaky from not drinking. I'm not sure how much longer I can last.

There's a faint rustling in the leaves above me. I scurry back into my hiding place, heart pounding in my chest. What is it? A mutt?

I look up, and see something silver and papery dangling from the tree. I can't help but grin as I realise what it is. A parachute with a parcel. A sponsor gift. _I _have sponsors! That's strange – I've done nothing other than hide. Maybe they just felt sorry for me.

Now I just need to get it down, whatever it is.

My first thought is to climb the tree, but the lowest branches are just out of my reach, even when I jump. Not for the first time, I hate my height. I step back from the tree and stare up at the parachute. It's not that high up... I grab a stick from the ground and throw it up as high as possible. It skims the bottom of the package.

It takes a few more attempts, but eventually, the stick knocks the package out of the tree and I catch it before it hits the ground.

I open the package and drop the paper to the ground. Inside is a bottle of orange juice and a small bread roll. Breakfast.

"Thank you!" I say, hoping that there is a camera on me.

I settle down against my tree and begin to eat my roll. I doubt that my sponsors will send me more meals in the future, unless I do something spectacular. And with food in my belly, the possibility of that happening seems slightly more real.

**

* * *

**

**Rhian POV**

"Cray! Wake up!"

I shake my twin awake and he stirs in the sleeping bag. Opening one eye, he glares at me and pushes me away.

"Five more minutes..."

"You do know where we are, right?"

He opens his eye again and takes in his surroundings.

"...crap."

Drowsily, he sits up, pushing his messy fringe away from his face.

"Got food?" he asks and I respond with a shake of the head. "Water?"

I take the bottle out of the backpack and pass it to him. Together we drink most of it, leaving only a small amount in the bottle. Things aren't looking so good.

Cray stands up, blinking away sleep. "So what's the plan for today? Storm the Careers' castle?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of finding food and water myself. But we could try your plan if we wanted to."

He laughs and rolls up the sleeping bag. "I'd have to say that yours is slightly more practical."

We were about to leave our resting place when a silver parachute drifted down through the trees. A sponsor gift! I run for it. Why do we have sponsors? Is it because people genuinely want us alive, or because they think it'll be funny for twins to be in a situation where they have to fight to the death? Either way, I'm grateful to see the package.

I tear the paper off eagerly, finding bread, cheese and another litre of water inside. Cray cheers and grabs the bread, tearing it in two. I eagerly take my half and eat it with my portion of the cheese. Only once all of the food is gone do I realise that it would be a good idea to have saved some for later.

"Bread and cheese has never tasted so good," Cray says, washing down his food with a little more water.

"So back to that plan," I say. "Should we split up and meet back here or..?"

"No. No splitting up," Cray says decisively. "We'd never find our way back together, and we're safer as a team."

He has a point. If we split up, then one of us will be unarmed. I find the penknife in the backpack and flick the blade out. I guess it'll be a good idea to carry it with me at all times.

"We need to find water," Cray says. "It's more important than food right now. We could waste a lot of time hunting and I doubt that we'd be any good at it anyway - our only weapon is that knife."

"We'll have to eat at some point."

"We'll have to drink sooner. If we can find a water source then we'll find animals quicker."

I nod. "Agreed. Now, what's the plan if we find another tribute?"

"If it's a Career, then run."

"Splitting up?"

"I guess. It's better for one of us to survive than have both of us die."

"And if it's another tribute?"

"Hopefully they'll talk before attacking. We might be able to find an ally, or at least avoid a conflict."

"And if they attack us, we'll fight them?"

Cray swallows. "I guess."

The plan – if you can call our vague ideas a plan – sounds good. Although I'm not sure if I want to make an alliance. It would mean trusting someone who was put in the arena to kill you. Even if they don't turn traitor, then I'd have to fight them at some point, after getting to know them. Perhaps it's better if everyone's just a face with a name loosely attached.

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**Yay for filler. Sorry about how slow/dull these recent chapters are. I'm trying to put in some more character development before I kill everyone off. The next chapter is even more filler, featuring the Careers. There will be action eventually – I promise! Once you've got to know the characters, they'll all die horribly.**

**Thanks for reading! As always, reviews are loved :)**


	8. Cupcakes

**This chapter is very much a 'filler episode'. Unless you really like the Careers, you can skip it without missing that much.**

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**Abi POV**

I woke before everyone else, after spending a night in a bed as luxurious as the ones in the Capitol. Now that we've got the castle, I'm quite happy about being an honorary Career. Compared to the rough night my fellow tributes must have experienced in wild woods and damp caves, I was living like a princess.

I hadn't heard any cannons fire in the night, but that might have been because of the thick castle walls. I hope that Elsia and Luck are safe. Well, I hope everyone's safe, but I actually knew those two. My plans of running away from the Careers have been all but destroyed by the castle. I almost can't bear to leave. I do know I won't be safe here forever. Once enough tributes have died, I'm sure that the Gamemakers will spring all manner of tricks and mutts in the castle. But for now I think we'll be left alone. Bad things don't start happening to Careers until the final ten at least and by then I'll probably have run away.

The Careers don't seem so bad now. As soon as we reached the castle, they lit up and became human. Well, all of them except Howel. He just had more things to moan about. Cerra discovered a wardrobe packed with expensive clothes. Every time I saw her yesterday she was wearing a different outfit. I wouldn't be surprised if the shots of her changing helped us to get more sponsors. Michael just loves the castle in general. He was up exploring long after most of us had fallen asleep. Eli chatted to me and managed to convince me that her happy personality wasn't just a front. The person I spoke to least was Zozi. I don't think I can face her, and the castle gives me plenty of places to hide.

I spent the last half hour baking. I was up early and thought that I might as well do something to gain the trust of the Careers. There weren't any cookery books lying around the kitchen, so I made the only thing I know off of the top of my head. Cupcakes. I can smell them baking now, their sweet aroma slowly drifting around the halls of the castle. I couldn't find any food colouring, so they're going to have to have plain icing. Oh well. Other people are sacrificing a lot more than pretty cupcakes in the games.

It's almost like the games don't exist to me, although I'm right in the middle of the arena. I'm just watching them out of the castle window, like the viewers in the Capitol. They're even more distanced from it all than I am. But they're watching me right now. The thought makes me shiver, and then an idea hits me. If we want to keep the castle from becoming a danger zone, we need to keep them interested. Hopefully they'll be enough action in the arena to delay any disasters, but we can still keep them entertained without violence. Personality clashes, arguments, relationships and the like. It would be like one of those Capitol TV shows, but in real life. I'm sure that they'd eat it up. I can't just tell the others my idea though; otherwise the audience will expect that it's staged. I'll just have to hope that there's enough drama between us all anyway. With Howel's personality and the relationship between Zozi and me, there's plenty of potential.

"What are you doing?" I hear a voice say behind me.

I spin around. It's Howel. He's probably going to try to kill me. So much for my great idea.

"Baking," I say, forcing a smile. "Cakes. Cupcakes actually."

Howel's mouth falls open and an expression of sheer disbelief crosses his face. It's almost comical really.

"...Why?" he manages to say.

"Well... they're nice," I say. "And everyone will be happy if they have cupcakes. Even if they're a bit dull. I couldn't find any food colouring for the icing so they won't be very pretty. Sorry about that."

"You're using up our supplies on cupcakes?"

I wave the comment away. "We've got plenty. There's a whole larder of ingredients and there's all of the stuff in the kitchen. And they're not just cupcakes – they're fast release energy supplies!" I'm amazed that I manage to think of it.

"What?"

"High in sugar, cupcakes," I explain. "And sugar gives you energy. So when you're out hunting down tributes, if you start to get tired then you can eat a cupcake!"

Howel seems to soften slightly. "I see... when you put it that way, perhaps it's acceptable."

I grin, hoping that my cupcake excuse has saved my life. Howel is about to leave when Michael rushes into the kitchen.

"Okay, I thought I was delirious, but someone's definitely making cakes down here!" he says excitedly.

I laugh. "That'd be me."

Michael turns to Howel. "We are keeping this girl!"

"It seems so," says Howel, shooting me a disdainful look.

I'm grateful when Michael leads Howel out of the kitchen, talking to him about tactics. I should probably listen, but I'm just relieved that he's gone.

The buzzer goes on the oven and I take out the cupcakes, which have risen and turned a golden colour on top. I hear footsteps behind me and I turn to see yet another person in the kitchen – this time Eli.

"I was told that you were making cupcakes," she said, unable to hide the amusement from her tone. "Turns out that Michael was right, or I've gone insane."

"He's right," I say, prodding one of the cupcakes and pulling back when I feel how hot it still is. "I'm the insane one."

Eli laughs. "Well, I guess that we might as well, when we've still got the supplies. Good to know we've got a decent cook on board – those things smell great!" She pauses, glancing through the door behind her. "By the way, we're having a strategy meeting. You should be there, being one of us and all."

"A strategy meeting? This early?"

"Yeah, we all overslept anyway. According to the clock in the hall, it's ten. Howel wants to get started early, and you know how he is."

I nod, turning back to my cakes. "I'll be along in a sec; I'll bring the cakes with me."

"'kay," Eli says and I hear her leave.

I poke a cupcake again. Still hot. I'm not sure I can cope with a strategy meeting. I mean, we're working out how to kill innocent people. But then again, I guess I'll have to act like a Career if I want to stay with the Careers. There's only so far that cakes can get me.

I wait for the cakes to cool, load them onto a decorated china plate and walk through to the lounge. The others are talking as I place the cakes on a low table, but it's clear that I've walked into the middle of a conversation. I look around for a place to sit. Howel is sitting in a deep red armchair, Cerra and Eli have taken one plush sofa and Michael is in another. Zozi leans against the wall. She raises an eyebrow at the cupcakes but says nothing. I take a seat next to Michael, sinking into the velvet softness of the sofa as the others all dart for the cupcakes – even Cerra, although she does make a comment about watching her weight. Howel seems unimpressed at his team's behaviour. I smile weakly at him and he looks away, sighing.

"Can we get on with planning now?" he says, but no one seems to hear him.

"Maybe you can recap what you've already agreed?" I suggest. "For me?"

I think that he's going to refuse, but then he says "Fine. We're going to hunt in the night, leaving at five-ish, returning around three. We won't all hunt at once, but in twos. One pair will take the forest, the other the cliff face and one will stay back here to keep watch."

Hunting. That's what they call it. Like vicious predators chasing timid prey, or – worse – like some kind of sick blood sport. I try not to show my horror and just nod.

Michael slumps back against the sofa, a half-eaten cupcake in his hand.

"These are really good," he says to me, making me smile and temporarily forget the horror of the hunt.

"So how's this going to work, Howel?" It's Zozi who talks. "Are we just going to kill whoever we find, or will we have specific targets?"

"Whoever we find is how it normally works," Eli says.

"Yes, but if we play our cards right we can take down the strongest first, before they have time to get weapons off of sponsors," Howel says.

"That doesn't make sense," I say. "Surely if you leave the strong ones, then they'll gradually starve and get weaker, and be easier to kill. You're going up against Capitol-fed ones at the moment."

"Then we'll just kill whoever we find," Cerra says. "Extra points for Samkin or Raquelle."

I try to think of why they'd single out those two, but then I remember the training scores.

"Luck got a seven," I say without thinking.

"Trying to kill your district partner?" Howel sneers.

"He doesn't have a bow," Zozi says. "That's his only strength. Unarmed, he's completely useless."

I nod – she's right. Luck had surprised me with his skill in archery, but he'd failed miserably at every other training station.

"So who's with who?" Michael asks.

"We won't stay in the same pairs every night," Howel says. "We'll experiment until we find out who's best with who."

"Yes, but what about tonight?"

"You go with Eli, Zozi with me, Abi and Cerra stay here."

"No," Zozi says. "I'll stay with Abi. I'll train her, so she can be useful at things other than baking."

"Got a problem with partnering with me?" Cerra asks Howel. "We're from the same district."

"Fine," Howel snaps. "Zozi and Abi stay here, but you better train her, Zozi. That girl's going on the hunt tomorrow."

The words hit me like a sledgehammer. Not only do I have to spend all day with _Zozi_, but I have to go on the hunt. Hunting for tributes, for people to kill. Howel smirks at me and the ill feeling that I'd been suppressing surfaces again.

Something moves at the window, at the edge of my vision. I turn to see what it is, and see a silver parachute fluttering down outside of the castle. What on earth could sponsors want to send us?

"Sponsor!" I say, pointing at the window, in case the others didn't spot it.

Zozi sighs and pushes herself away from the wall. She leaves the room and returns with the parcel as she unwraps it.

"What is it?" Michael asks.

A small smile flutters over Zozi's face as she looks inside the parcel, but I might have imagined it as it's gone as quickly as it appeared.

"It's food colouring," she says.

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**Thanks for reading! Something actually relevant to the plot happens next chapter! *le gasp!* I'd like to hear opinions on the games so far. I know that there's been a lot of talking and no action, but I'd like to know if you find it bearable or if you want me to speed up and kill everyone.**

**Happy Birthday to Abbi! (also known as NinjaCupcackles, and the real life version of Abi – see how much I changed the name?) Thanks for all of your help with this fic so far! This chapter was kind of for you - I hope you liked it!**


	9. Allies

**Rhian POV**

We find him as we wander through the woods, searching for water. It's been a hot day, and we've drunk about half of our water on our little journey. Luckily, our breakfast keeps hunger from creeping up on me.

He's curled up in a ball at the base of a tree, silently sobbing into his arms. I recognise him as Connor, the tribute from District Six. He doesn't look like a threat in any way, but I still hold out an arm to stop Cray. He doesn't seem to have noticed us – he's too wrapped up in his own little world of suffering. If we were Careers, he'd have been dead by now. I point my penknife at him and stamp my foot to attract his attention. He looks up with brown eyes which quickly widen with fear.

"Don't hurt me!" he whispers.

"We're not going to," Cray says.

He pushes me out of the way and runs over to him, kneeling down.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"What do you think?" Connor remarks. "I'm in the bloody Hunger Games – do you think I'm all right?"

I glower at him. "Have you had food or water? Are you injured?"

"Nope, nope and nope," he replies, wiping away tears and trying to reassume a confident demeanour. "How are you two? Armed and dangerous I see."

I laugh at that. My little knife is nothing compared to the deadly murder instruments that I saw the Careers lugging around.

"We're okay, I guess," I say, joining the other two at the tree. "Fearing for our lives, of course."

"We managed to get some stuff at the Cornucopia," Cray says. "And we appear to have sponsors too!"

"Lucky," Connor comments.

I wonder why we're talking to him like this. I guess it's just nice to see someone that doesn't want to kill you.

"Rhian?" Cray looks up at me. "Can we give him some of our water?"

Connor's eyes light up at the suggestion. I hesitate before saying anything, looking between my brother and the boy, conscious of the backpack I'm wearing. It's already lighter than it was this morning – can I really afford to give him water? I have no idea how far we are from a water source. Maybe if I'm nice then I'll get more sponsors. I'm not sure what angle they want us to be going for. Kind district kids or twins who'll kill for each other.

"Please," Connor says. "I want to live long enough to be killed by a Career. It'll be quicker than dying of dehydration."

I laugh, although I really shouldn't have. Eventually caving to my conscience, I throw him the bottle of water.

"Don't drink too much," I say, watching as he pours it down his throat. "It's all that we've got."

Sheepishly, he stops drinking and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. He's smiling when he passes the bottle back to me.

"Thanks for that," he says. "Good luck in the games."

He starts to curl back into foetal position but Cray stops him.

"Come with us," he says simply.

"What?" I snap, before Connor has a chance to react.

"You're going to die if you stay here," Cray says to Connor. "And you might as well die with us. We could use a shield."

All of this black humour is starting to annoy me. I don't know why Cray wants him with us. It doesn't seem that he could offer anything to our group, other than another mouth to feed. If I remember correctly, Connor got the lowest score in training. Thinking logically, we should leave him here. But he's human. If we leave him here, he'll _die_. He'll die alone and starving. That's no way to go. He's right – even being skewered by a Career would be better than slowly fading into nothing.

"If you want to, you can come with us," I say.

"I'm going to die anyway – what's the point of dragging it out any longer?"

"Well, I could kill you now, if you'd prefer that."

Cray glares at me. I'm not normally like that – I just thought it was a pretty good comeback that had to be used.

"Why do you want me with you?"

This kid is so annoying. Why is he flat out refusing our help like this?

"'Cause otherwise I'll feel responsible when I hear your cannon," I say bluntly. "We're leaving now. Come with us if you want."

I turn my back on him and head back into the forest. I don't have time to waste – I need to find water, especially now we have even less supplies. Cray scampers to my side and I sense that he is about to say something, but he keeps his mouth closed.

It's not long before I hear loud footsteps behind me as Connor charges through the undergrowth towards us. I halt but don't look back.

"I'll come with you," he says.

He's panting, out of breath already. Of all the people I could have picked as an ally... But I'm strangely glad he's with us. Hopefully he'll have some kind of sixth sense when it comes to finding water. I doubt it though.

I turn to face him. "Good."

He smiles back.

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Lecks POV

I'm glad that I managed to find a cave to hide in. The afternoon sun seems to be threatening to cook the arena outside. I'm safe in my cave. Well, as safe as I can be.

I'm completely defenceless and I've got no supplies. Well, I have_ things_ but they are definitely not supplies. Remember that backpack I got at the Cornucopia? Turns out that there's a reason it was so close to the edge. Inside I found a fluffy pink teddy bear with a note taped to its chest reading "Surprise!". Ha ha. I bet the Capitol audience got a laugh out of that. What horrible people, finding other people's suffering funny.

There was also a toothbrush in the bag. Great, that'll be useful. Maybe I could gouge someone's eyes out with it. Probably not. It's a toothbrush.

So here I am. Alone in an empty cave, with only a stuffed toy for company. I've decided to call him Mr. Snugglekins. He's quite cute really. Maybe I'll be allowed to keep him once I win the games.

I sit at the mouth of the cave, looking out on the arena. The forest is a blur on the horizon, and I can't see the castle from where I am. It's probably not the best location to be, at the very foot of the cliff face, but I was too tired to climb last night. Maybe later. My cave's pretty small. There were others with better places to hide, but I picked the one with the least spiders. I can't stand those things. Their legs are so weird.

My deep thoughts are interrupted by the quiet scrape of footsteps on rock. The sound's coming from above me. Reacting as fast as I can, I grab Mr. Snugglekins and press myself against the wall. I'm not sure if it makes me harder to see, but I'd really like it to. I can actually hear my heartbeat as I try to focus on the footsteps. Was there someone in a cave above me?

Answering my question, a figure drops down in front of the cave mouth, landing softly. From his long hair, I guess that he's the District Twelve tribute. I remember him as being quite good, but I didn't really bother watching any of the others in training. He stands up, dusting down his knees. For a moment, I think I'll go unnoticed. Then he turns around. When he sees me, his eyes widen momentarily. I manage a shaky grin as he whips two knives from his belt. Holy crap – how did he get that many weapons when I got a toothbrush? I hold out Mr Snugglekins as a shield, prompting a snort of laughter from the boy.

"Coast is clear!" he shouts up to someone.

I hear a faint reply, but can't make out the words. I don't care; I'm too focused on the boy with the knives. He's lowered them but they're still in his hands.

"Lecks, isn't it?" he asks with a smirk.

"That's what they call me," I say confidently.

"I'm going to guess that you're unarmed," the boy says.

"I might be."

"You are."

Another boy appears in the mouth of the cave after scuttling down the cliff face with a mini-avalanche of dust and pebbles. He's got some kind of strange markings on his face. I think that they're paint, but when he's closer I see that they're cuts. That must have hurt. He gives a little yelp when he sees me, but it's quickly replaced by laughter.

"Nice bear," he says.

"It is, isn't it?" I reply, keeping my cool. I've got to look like a rugged, sarcastic hero.

I recognise his crazy curly hair. It's Uwel – Hero's significant other. I saw her face in the sky last night. He can't be very happy about that.

"Have you seen anyone else?" the Twelve boy asks. "Since you left the Cornucopia, I mean."

I shake my head. "Just you two. Everyone else seemed to be heading for the forest." I pause. "Why? You're not trying to find people to kill – are you?"

They both laugh at that and I feel my cheeks growing hot.

"The opposite," Twelve says. "Trying to not be killed."

"Well, why don't we try to not be killed together?" I say with a weak grin.

"Eh?"

"Should we team up?" I say. "I mean, we're going to keep bumping into each other anyway, so we might as well..."

In a perfect world, I wouldn't need allies. Really, I know that the person I've convinced myself I am doesn't exist. I'm going to need help to survive. The Twelve boy got a Career standard score in training. He could be a good choice of ally.

"I don't have a problem with that," Uwel says. "Samkin?"

It's clear that Samkin is the one who makes the decisions here. I grin at him, hoping that my eagerness will help to persuade him. He looks me up and down, analysing me.

"Fine," he says after a while. "But you're going to have to pull your own weight. Don't think that I'm going to look after you. If you don't put in any effort, we're leaving you in a cave. Got that?"

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. I nod, relieved that he agreed. Clearly I'm not his favourite person in the world though.

"Let's get going then," he says.

"Um... where are we going?" I ask, picking up Mr Snugglekins and shoving him into the waiting backpack.

"Finding somewhere to stay," Uwel explains. "And just scouting the area generally."

"Right. What's wrong with this cave?"

"Everything," Samkin says. "It's too small, there's nowhere to hide, no food, no water... the list goes on."

"Ah, I see."

Samkin heads out of the cave, adjusting the straps on his own backpack. Uwel gestures for me to follow him and we leave the cave together.

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**Thanks for reading! As always, please review :)**

**Still not onto action yet, but at least this chapter advances the plot a bit. There will be action soon!**


	10. Empty Grave

**Abi POV**

"Careful," Zozi warns as I pull pack on the bowstring.

I try to focus on the old tree that we've been using as a target. It's already dented from my attempts at using a sword.

Try as I might, I can't get the hang of aiming. The arrow wobbles against the bow and won't stay straight. I'm also conscious of Zozi's eyes on me all the time, which probably isn't helping.

Aiming as well as I can, I release the arrow. The bowstring lashes against my left forearm as the arrow flies. I wince at the pain and lower the bow. Ahead of me, the arrow has missed the tree by some distance, joining the others that I've missed with. Zozi groans.

"Maybe you're not an archer," she comments.

She collects the arrows from the ground, inspecting them to see if they're still usable.

"What do you want to try next?" she asks.

We've been like this all day. She'll show me how to use a weapon, I'll completely mess it up and we'll move onto the next one. We had a brief break for lunch, but otherwise I haven't stopped training. We started off with knives. Zozi said that it was the easiest weapon to use and demonstrated how to use it in a fight. She showed me the points in the body that would cause instant death. I began to feel a bit queasy, so we moved on to swords. I'd expected the sword to just be like a big knife. It turned out to be completely different and it felt so awkward, messing up my balance every time I swung it. Zozi said that I showed some promise, but I didn't believe her.

After that we tried axes, but I was too scared of the weapon to even attempt an attack. Seriously, an axe blade is somehow a million times scarier than a sword. At least you can tell yourself that the sword that you're holding isn't going to hurt you. An axe doesn't look like it's going to take sides in a fight.

Then we moved onto the bow. I think that Zozi hoped that her talent with a bow would run in the family. Turns out that it didn't.

We haven't spoken much during training and when we have done it has been purely as teacher and student. I still find it difficult to look at her without feeling betrayed. I think it would hurt less if she'd changed more, but she's so clearly the same person I thought was dead. She still looks the same, she still acts the same, she still talks the same. It's just that now she's a Career.

"Can we take a break for a bit?" I ask, rubbing my forearm where the string grazed it.

Zozi glances up at the sky. "I think we can call it a day. It's going to be getting dark soon."

I know what that means. The others will be hunting soon. I haven't heard any cannons today. There will be some tonight.

Zozi begins to gather up the weapons. She looks so at ease with them as she checks them for damage. It's strange, seeing her handling these instruments of murder so comfortably.

"Why are you a Career?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. She drops the sword she's holding and looks back at me. Now the questions have started, I can't stop them. "Why were you in Two? Why aren't you dead? Why didn't you come back?"

The words echo around the little courtyard we're in but don't manage to break the silence that falls between us. I clench my shaking hands into fists.

"Slow down," Zozi says, walking towards me. "You think I'm dead?"

"Thought you were dead," I correct her. "That's what we were told. The Peacekeepers killed you."

"I got out..." Zozi starts.

"I can see that now!" I yell. "But I went to your funeral! I saw your coffin lowered into the ground! I go to your grave every Sunday with fresh flowers."

"Wait – I have a grave?" Zozi says.

"Yeah, 'cause you're dead. But you're not. You were in District Two all this time."

"Abi, I thought you knew that I was alive."

Zozi slumps back against the tree, smiling weakly. She avoids my eyes as I glare at her.

"Well, I didn't," I snap. I hesitate, then say "So why didn't you come back?"

"I couldn't!" Zozi says. "I tried, I really did. But the Peacekeepers already had their eyes on me and I couldn't get out. I'm really, really sorry..."

"If you managed to get out of District Three you could have got out of Two," I remark.

"I promise you, I tried."

"Especially with your Career training, it should have been easy for you."

I wait for a reply. It doesn't come.

"Why are you a Career? Why are you here? How come you can shoot so well?" I fire the questions at her.

"I didn't have a choice," she whispers. "When I got to District Two I was alone and without a penny to my name. The Career Training Centre offered free beds and meals to potential Careers. It was a sensible decision."

"The sensible decision would have been coming home!" I yell. "You think that I'm angry? I'd hate to have seen Mum's face when she saw you getting reaped. I'd hate to hear what Dad says when he sees that you're a cold-blooded killer!"

"Abi, stop it," she says, staring at the floor.

I refuse to stop. She needs to know what she's done. "You know how much they've cried over you? You know how many tears _I've _cried for you? We all thought that you were dead! Dead! When really you were off in some training centre."

"I should have come back! I know!" Zozi shouts, looking up at me with cold eyes. "But if I had come back, I would have been killed! And I guess I was just too scared of dying."

"You..."

"I'm not finished. If I had come back then I wouldn't have been reaped. You'd be in this alone. You'd have been killed by that boy at the Cornucopia. Do you realise that? I saved your life by not coming back! I'm the only thing that's keeping you alive right now. And I'm going to keep you alive, Abigayl, whether you like it or not. I know that it won't make up for everything I've put you through, but it's my one chance at redemption. If you can get out of these games alive, then I'll feel like I haven't let you down."

I don't know what to say. She's right – I'd be dead if it weren't for her being here. But do I really want her sacrificing everything to keep me alive? She is still my sister, after all. Our eyes are locked as she looks up at me from the foot of the tree. Anger continues to boil inside of me and I force back tears.

"You owe me that much," I say.

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Uwel POV

Lecks isn't as bad as I thought he'd be. He doesn't seem to have any understanding of when to stop with crude comments, but sometimes he can be quite funny. His attempts to 'lighten the mood' often backfire, especially the few times that he's attempted to joke about Hero. But beneath it all, I don't think that he's a bad person - once you can get past the bad jokes and actually get him talking. He's not an idiot. Well, he is, but he's a clever idiot. He knows everything in theory but practical application seems to escape him. He's blinded by his own ego sometimes.

I can't believe that it's only been a day since Hero died. It feels like so much longer. I'm such a terrible person for accepting it so quickly. I haven't gotten over her and I don't think that I ever will but I am forcing myself to continue living. It's what she would have wanted. If I'd gone all suicidal then she'd have thought that I was an idiot. So I'll live with it. I'll never forget her, but I won't forget myself either.

We found another large cave slightly further down the cliff from where Lecks was hiding. It's bigger than the one that we were in before and it's illuminated by glowing mushrooms in the back of the cave. It gives everything an eerie blue glow. There's also a ledge above the cave mouth. Samkin worked out a quick way to get to it and showed Lecks and I. It's barely big enough for the three of us but it'll be a decent hiding place if we need it to be. Currently we're using it as a food store.

It's not quite dark outside yet, but I can tell that night isn't far away as I peer out of the cave mouth. The arena looks as lovely as ever underneath the purplish sky. The sun catches on the Cornucopia. It's just a distant gold dot but just the sight of it fills me with anger. It's a gravestone now, marking the spot where Hero died.

I decide to stay at the cave mouth as Lecks attempts to strike up another conversation. Surprisingly, Lecks and Samkin seem to be getting along quite well as they talk about their life at home. They both suddenly seem so normal. Lecks is just an average teenage boy who's still thinking about average teenage things despite the ruthless games unfolding around him. Samkin is kind of vague about his past, but it sounds like he had a decent life. He's got a sister – I hear that as their conversation drifts toward me. From the sound of it, he wasn't going to be a miner in District Twelve. He's a member of their middle-class, or whatever the Twelve equivalent of that is. How did he learn to use knives then? Perhaps he's just naturally gifted, but I doubt it. I'll have to ask him at some point, maybe once Lecks is asleep.

I think that I like Samkin. It's clear that he's the only good fighter in our little alliance and our unofficial leader. He doesn't seem to have a problem with that. He's an odd guy. He's often very quiet and can seem quite distant but at the same time he's very alert and attentive. I still don't know why he rescued me at the Cornucopia. It can't be any great advantage to him to have me tagging along as an ally. If anything, I'm more of a hindrance. I'm glad that he saved me though. I wasn't sure if I was, at the time. I wanted to die when Hero did. Now my head's cleared, I'm eternally grateful to him.

As my mind flashes back to the fight at the Cornucopia, my hand goes instinctively to my cheek. I'm barely aware of the cuts now but they are still sore when I touch them. I feel sorry for whoever's going to die at Howel's hands. He's obviously the type to play with his prey before killing them. I don't know how anyone can be that cruel. In the arena, people kill because they have to. Strangely, I don't have much of a problem with that. It's the way that the games work. Everyone here wants to live. But people like Howel kill because they find it fun. That really sickens me. I'm just glad that he didn't get a chance to draw out Hero's death.

"Hey Uwel!" Lecks calls over to me.

I turn. "What?"

"You alright?" Lecks asks. "You looked a bit miserable over there."

"I'm... I'm fine," I say, forcing myself to smile.

"You don't look it," Lecks says.

"I'm just tired – that's all."

"Tired? It's not late - we haven't even eaten yet!"

"We don't have that much food," Samkin says. He'd drifted to the cave mouth while we were talking. "Dinner will probably just be bread and apple."

"I'm fine with that," Lecks says. "I'm starving, so whatever you've got would be good."

He probably hasn't eaten since the games began, no wonder he's hungry.

"Are we stopping now then?" I ask, directing the question at Samkin.

"If you're okay with that," he says with a shrug. "It'd probably be a good idea to get some sleep in now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it." Samkin strolls back towards us. "There haven't been any deaths all day. Either everyone's very good at hiding, or the Careers have decided to hunt at night."

"Ah," I say, suddenly feeling very cold.

"Well, we can take them on," Lecks says.

"No," Samkin snaps. "If we see or hear any sign of the Careers then we're getting straight up onto that ledge. We're no match for them."

"'course we are!" scoffs Lecks. "You got an eight!"

"And you got a five," Samkin says. "So we'll be hiding. Unless you want to take your chances alone."

Neither of them say anything as they glare at each other. Maybe I was stupid to think that our alliance would work out.

"So... what happened to that bread?" I ask in a vague attempt to break the silence.

Samkin ignores me. "Lecks, we're trying our best not to get killed here. If you'd rather be fighting then go ahead, but you're going to have to do that alone."

* * *

**Thanks for all of the reviews! They make me happy :)**


	11. Nightfall

**Michael POV**

Cereal bars are one of the dullest things in the world. They seem to think that they taste nice, but they really don't. They're really chewy and get stuck in your teeth. They're not horrible, they're just... meh.

Abi started cooking something just before we left to hunt. Whatever it was, it smelt delicious, but Howel insisted that we had a strict schedule to stick to. So I was left with just a cereal bar for dinner, even when the castle is full of food.

Howel decided that Eli and I should hunt on the cliff face because we were used to cliffs in District Four. We both know that that's not his real reason. He saw all of the tributes running towards the forest and he wants to be the one to kill them. Knowing my luck, there won't be any of them in the caves. Not that I really want there to be. I'm not exactly a fan of killing. I'm good at it, I know that, but I don't like it. I killed Joard yesterday – hopefully that will be enough to keep me alive if I come back empty-handed.

It's quite a long walk from the castle gates to the foot of the cliff and it's well and truly dark by the time that we get there. The moon in the arena is a perfect crescent, a claw in the sky, but it doesn't shed much light onto our surroundings. Luckily, we brought a torch from the castle. It might alert people to our presence but we're definitely going to need it if we're going to traverse the narrow ledges of the cliff.

With a click, the torch comes to life in Eli's hand. She whistles as she runs the beam of light over the rock.

"We're not going to get through half of this," she comments.

She's right. The top of the cliff is barely visible from the foot and there are caves scattered all the way up. Some are glowing with a faint blue light, but none give off the telltale orange glow of a burning fire. We're going to have to be careful. I imagine that there's all manner of Gamemakers' traps inside those caves.

"So, what's the plan?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Look in as many caves as possible, I guess. Weaker tributes might not have got very high up the cliff but any with any sense will be as high as possible. We're going to have to look in all of them."

I groan as we head off towards the nearest cave. "We're getting the forest tomorrow. I'm going to kill Howel if he makes me do this again."

"Well, there won't be a 'we' involved," Eli says. "New partners each night, remember?"

"I'm not going with Howel."

"Who knows? You might be lucky and get Cerra."

"Lucky? She seems like a bitch to me," I say. "She's not my type."

"I meant that she's actually a half-decent fighter," Eli says with a giggle. "Have you seen Howel with a sword? I've never seen a Career so cack-handed."

We reach the cave. It's at ground level, so only the most idiotic of tributes would try to sleep in it. We walk in together and Eli runs the torch over the bare rock. It's empty, not that I'd expected anything else.

"One down, a bazillion more to go," I mutter.

It's going to be a very long night indeed.

* * *

**Howel POV**

The forest is my hunting ground and I will not leave it without a kill. I know what the forest will be like – full of shaking tributes that cry themselves to sleep at night or trick themselves into believing in their pathetic alliances. They'll be easy targets.

Cerra walks at my side, her blonde hair still faintly visible in the darkness. Reluctantly, I let her turn on the torch as long as she keeps it on the lowest light setting. If I fear that it'll give us away then I'll make her turn it off.

"I claim the first kill," I whisper to her.

"Be my guest," she says with a smirk. "If you can actually kill one of them, of course."

"I can," I spit. "I can't wait."

"I know that," she says, keeping her voice low. "You're one of the most bloodthirsty people that I've ever met, and I've worked with Careers every day of my life. I'm just not sure if you'll win a fight."

"I never knew that your opinion of me was so low," I say. "I'll be able to take on one of these weaklings easily, and I'll win."

"Of course you will," Cerra says.

She's not scared of me. The others are – I'm sure of it. Abi shakes if I so much as look at her. Neither Zozi nor Eli likes to be around me for long. Michael will talk to me but I can tell that he's constantly trying to work out if I'm going to kill him. But Cerra's not. Probably because I made the mistake of talking to her on the train and during training. She probably thinks that she knows me now and that it's okay to tease me.

If it weren't for her skill with weapons, she wouldn't be alive right now.

"Come out, little tributes," she whispers.

My eyes follow the light of the torch as it flickers over trees. I can't see any faces looking back at me. I didn't expect to find a tribute straight away, of course. We're not that far away from the castle yet.

I trip over a tree root and fall to the ground accompanied by the squeak of Cerra's laugh. I curse as I stand, rubbing mud off of my face. I haven't injured anything other than my pride though.

"Nice going, Master Hunter," Cerra quips.

"Shut up," I snap back.

It takes a harsh glare to stop her laughter. My grip on my dagger tightens as we walk further into the forest. I did experiment with other weapons but I always found myself going back to a dagger. I was tempted by a flail though and I might use one later in the games once my competition is tougher. But for now, I can stick with my dagger and have more fun.

* * *

**Elsia POV**

The chirruping of a small animal wakes me from the shallow sleep that I'd managed to fall into. I sit up abruptly and dizziness fills me as blood rushes to my head. For a moment, I'm frightened and hurriedly scramble onto my feet but then my eyes fall on my awakener. I think it's a squirrel or something, but it darts off before I can get a good look at it.

I laugh at myself for being so easily frightened then settle back onto the ground. Around me the woods are consumed by darkness. It's a strange feeling, lying awake and staring at nothing. It makes me feel like the only person in the world. I close my eyes and the darkness is replaced by the darkness of my mind. But this is different, it's a comforting darkness.

I can't get back to sleep though. It took long enough the first time and now my mind seems reluctant to return to my dreams. They weren't bad dreams. Up until I entered the arena I died in all of my nightmares. With each night I was killed a different way, the face of my attacker morphing into different tributes as I screamed.

But now that I'm finally in the games my dreams are different. I dream of home, of being with my family. All of my petty arguments with my sister seem stupid now and I'm happy to see her face again, even if it's only in my mind. No matter how terrible life was back in District Eleven, it's worse in the games. The arena is nicer than the fields, I have to admit, but the fear that I could die at any moment is constantly lurking in my mind. It's the inescapable truth of the games.

Memories of District Eleven fill my mind and for a brief moment I think of what it would be like if I did win the games. We'd be rich; we'd never have to work again. I'd love it if my sister could escape from the back-breaking work. I'd love it if my parents could stop worrying about money, stop worrying about how they're going to feed us. Maybe, just maybe, I could make it happen.

The distant crack of wood pulls me back into the games. This time I'm not as drowsy when I stand. That was definitely the sound of a branch snapping.

It could just be another animal but – yet again – I fear the worst. The faint sound of laughter confirms my fears. Tributes. No normal tributes would be awake at this time of night. It's either Careers or someone that I should fear just as much.

I stay still, trapped by the darkness. I'm not sure if I could move even if I wanted to. My mouth is dry and my pulse rattles through my body. If I try to run then I'll only end up making more noise and I'll draw attention to myself. I can only hope that the Careers walk past me.

My flesh crawls as I grope around in the darkness until my hands find the roughness of a tree trunk. I pull myself closer to it. I need something to lean on or I might collapse. I need to think about this situation rationally. I'm in darkness, they're in darkness – they shouldn't see me.

I peer around the edge of the tree to see a faint glow moving through the forest. It's torchlight. In the light I can vaguely make out two figures. One is a tall boy with slouched posture and hair that falls over one of his eyes. Howel Sela. My mentor told me to look out for him. Apparently he's cruel and ruthless. I kind of wish that he hadn't told me that. Knowing that Howel is a monster doesn't make me feel any safer.

The blonde girl at his side is his district partner, Cerra Gell. If it weren't for her pale skin and hair, she'd have blended completely into the darkness. On Howel I can vaguely make out the muted red of his tunic but Cerra is dressed completely in black. I don't have time to worry about where her she got new clothes from; she's close enough for me to hear her voice now.

They haven't noticed me yet. They walk through the forest, frequently obstructed from view by dark pillars of trees. My heartbeat roars in my ears as they get closer and closer. I press myself against the tree and I can no longer see them.

"...really impractical, I hope you know that," I hear Cerra say.

"We have the element of surprise at night."

"We'd still have it in the day. And we'd be able to see."

"Shut up."

I freeze as the torchlight scans over my tree. For a brief moment I can see the forest around me while I'm still left in darkness. My eyes find a path away from the Careers and I struggle to remember exactly where it was when the torchlight leaves me.

"See – all of your talking has scared them away," Howel says to Cerra.

They haven't noticed me. I'm still alive. I sigh with relief and gingerly step away from the tree. I head for where I think the pathway is. I need to get as far away from the Careers as possible. If they change direction then they'll walk straight past my tree and find me.

I wince as a twig snaps under my foot. It shouldn't have been loud enough for the Careers to hear but it's enough to convince me that I should stay by the tree. As I edge back towards the tree, the torch finds me.

"There!" Cerra hisses to Howel.

I'm too scared to scream when my eyes meet hers. I was stupid to think that I was going to survive. Howel seems almost hungry as he looks at me, like some foul predator. I see his dagger, see Cerra's throwing knives. I wonder which one of them will kill me.

But I can't resign myself to death.

Escaping from fear's paralysing grip, I run. I don't care how much noise I make now, I just need to get away.

A knife embeds itself in the ground where I was just standing. I was lucky that Cerra was holding the torch, otherwise she'd have been quick enough to kill me.

I run blindly onwards, tripping on plants and rushing into trees. Thorns bite into me and the trees bruise but it doesn't stop me. Each time I fall I force myself up again. I'm not a fast runner but even if I was it would be impossible to go quickly in these tangled woods. The Careers' footsteps are never far behind mine, always driving me onwards. It's amazing what you can achieve when your life's on the line. In any other situation I would be out of breath and exhausted. Now, I push through the pain, forcing myself to run.

I duck under a low branch. Hopefully my height is giving me some advantage here.

Another knife slams into a tree I just passed. It sticks in all the way to its handle, splintering the wood around it. I don't risk a look back to see if Cerra is preparing to throw another. A moment's hesitation and the Careers will get me. If I manage to dodge any more, it's pure dumb luck.

Howel curses under his breath and Cerra says something to him. I'm not sure what it is. Fear deafens and blinds me. I just focus on trying to find a way through the twisting forest.

My foot catches on a fallen log and I hurtle into the ground. The rough earth grates my cheek open and I cry out in pain. I push against the ground with shaking hands and stand again. My legs feel so weak. I can't run for much longer.

"Ow!" I hear a girl's voice, and it's not Cerra's.

As the torchlight cuts into the clearing, I see that it wasn't a log I tripped over. It's another tribute. A young girl with dark hair. I can't remember her name. She doesn't notice me. Her eyes are fixed on the Careers as they reach the clearing. She screams.

I run. I can't stop, I have to run. This time, I might have a chance of escaping as I'm plunged into the darkness of the forest. The girl will distract the Career's, hopefully for long enough for me to get away. And by distract them, I mean that they'll kill her.

She screams again, from pain rather than fear. The bloodcurdling noise cuts through the forest and pulls my mind back to the clearing. I don't want to leave her there to die but I have to. I don't know that girl. I shouldn't risk my life for her. If I go back there, then I'm facing certain death.

The girl's screams are louder now and are even more chilling. Each scream turns my blood to ice. Mixed with her pain is Howel's cruel laughter. I feel a wave of nausea. I'm listening to a girl die. If I hadn't led the Careers to her then it would be my screams that fill the forest.

After what seems like hours, she can't scream any more. Instead, she lets out a horrific gurgling yell and then there's silence. A cannon goes off and I slump to the ground. She's dead.

If it wasn't for me, that girl could still be alive. That should have been my cannon. There's a creeping feeling in my mind that her death was my fault. I tell myself that I'm wrong, that it was the Careers that killed her. But I know that I am also responsible, if only in a small way.

I'm back in darkness and the forest is silent around me. Without the screams, it seems too quiet.

I peer back round my tree. There's only darkness. I can't see the Careers' torchlight anywhere. They've gone. They've made their kill, they don't need me anymore. Who knows, they could still be looking for me but have wondered off in the wrong direction. No matter what, I feel safe now.

Until tomorrow night at least.

* * *

**Look at that! Action!**

**I really need feedback on this chapter. Action isn't one of my strong points, so I'd love to know your opinions on this scene. **


	12. The Wall

_**Day 3**_

**Rhian POV**

"There was a death yesterday," Cray says as we pack up the sleeping bag.

"What?" Connor exclaims, eyes wide.

"Surprised?" I ask him. "Did you think that people wouldn't die in the Hunger Games?"

Connor's face reddens but he says nothing.

"It was in the middle of the night," Cray says. "When I was on watch. I don't know what happened, I just heard a cannon go off."

"Wonder who it was," I say.

I don't mean to sound cold, but I just didn't know any of the other tributes. Their deaths are sad but they're not my death or Cray's.

"Whoever it was, the Careers probably got them," Cray says.

I glance at Connor. He's paled and is shaking slightly, staring at nothing in particular. No wonder he's frightened, he's a posh kid in a hostile environment. He's never had to compete for anything before, let alone his life. He was telling us about his home yesterday. It seemed like he could talk for ages about his fancy house, his expensive technology and his servants. A house in Victor's Village would be a step down for him.

He's not a bad guy, he's just naive. He doesn't seem to realise that not everyone lives like him. He's only realised what he had now that he's lost it. And he has lost it. Let's face the facts, there's no way that Connor is going to win the games.

If it wasn't for Cray, I wouldn't be travelling with him right now. It's not like he has any useful skills. Cray and I can survive fine by ourselves. We seem to have subconsciously decided that I'm the fighter and leader. Cray is good at survival skills. He makes sure that our tracks our covered. He knows where to find food. There's nothing else that Connor can add. He's quite strong but would never resort to an unarmed fight – it's too 'common' for him. Even if he could use a weapon, we only have one knife and that's mine.

I make sure that I carry the knife at all times. It's the only thing that I keep with me. Connor volunteered to carry the backpack. Almost all of the Careers are still alive and they could attack at any time. I need to be ready for when they do.

We set off into the woods, not going in any particular direction. I think that we're going away from the castle, but I can't be sure. I lost any sense of direction sometime in day one. Now we're just driven on by the hope that we'll stumble across a water source. There has to be one around here somewhere – they wouldn't create an arena without water. There's bound to be water at the castle of course, but I'm never going to risk going there.

Connor hums to himself as he walks. It's irritating, but much better than when he'd moan constantly.

"So, what would your ideal arena have been?" Cray says.

I know that he's just trying to start a conversation but I wish that it didn't have to be about the games. It's a safe subject though, the only thing that he can be sure we all know about. We worked out yesterday that talking about our home lives hurt too much.

"I don't know," Connor says. "Probably like a giant mansion or something. Somewhere that would still feel vaguely like home."

"That's quite a good idea actually," Cray says. "It could be all weird and twisted and confusing, they could make it like a haunted house at night."

"Take note, Gamemakers!" Connor calls to the sky.

"Giving them ideas probably isn't a great thing to do," I say.

"I can see how it'd be quite a fun job, really," Cray says. "Once you get past the whole 'they're murderers' thing. You'd have to be really creative to make it different each year."

"I can't believe that you're sympathising with the people who locked us in here," I spit.

"I'm not! I'm just saying that I can see why someone would choose it as a job."

"It probably pays quite well," Connor says.

"Yeah," Cray says. "They've given us a fairly standard arena this year though."

"It's a nice place though," Connor says, gesturing at the silver and gold trees. "And the castle's an original twist."

"And now you're reviewing their work!" I say. "This place is designed to kill us!"

"Haven't seen many mutts yet, mind you," Connor says.

"They're probably saving them up," Cray says. "I can think of loads that would fit in really well here. It's meant to be all fairytale-y, isn't it? So you could have like goblin things and fairies and..."

"Stop giving them ideas!" I snap.

Cray laughs and I glare at him. He's always been creative – I just wish that he'd find another way to show it in the arena. He's right though. As we get further into the games we're going to have to look out for mutts as well as each other.

* * *

**Abi POV**

I don't feel good about the way that I treated Zozi yesterday. At least one of us is going to die in here, I should be trying to fix our relationship, not damage it even more. But I just couldn't control my anger yesterday. It had been building inside of me since I first saw her being reaped. Yesterday it took the chance to explode.

Zozi's not up yet. I think that she stayed up all night until the others got back from hunting. Howel's a bit annoyed about the hunt – apparently one kill isn't enough for a borderline psychopath like him. I'm staying as far away from him as I can. He's reading in the lounge, I'm back in the kitchen, frying eggs and bacon for everyone's breakfast.

I'm going to try harder in training today. It won't be long before Howel makes me hunt, and I'll need to be prepared. I'll pick one weapon to focus on and I'll research poisons during my breaks. Before the games began I only learnt basic survival skills, none of which I'll need now that I've got the castle.

I don't know what weapon I'll choose though. Clearly I'm useless with a bow, so that's out. Throwing knives were a possibility but Cerra's already got that covered. Using that logic I can also rule out daggers, swords and spears. Which leaves me with axes. There's no way that I'm going to use an axe.

As I'm plating up breakfast, Michael appears in the doorway. He's in a dressing gown. This is the Hunger Games and he's wearing a dressing gown. Seriously – what were the Gamemakers thinking when they put this castle here?

"Making something delicious again?" he asks.

I laugh off the compliment. "I've just fried some stuff..."

"It's more than I could do," Michael says with a shrug.

He takes a plate and leaves the room.

"Hey Eli! Breakfast's ready!" I hear him shout up the stairs.

I hear hurried footsteps as Eli hurtles down the stairs and into the kitchen. With a sheepish grin, she helps herself to a plate.

"Come and eat with us," she says to me. "I know you – you'll just stay in here."

I am about to refuse but then I remember that Eli could probably help me with my weapon dilemma. I take a plate for myself and follow her through to the dining room where Michael is already wolfing down his food.

"Y'know," he says as I sit down. "My mentor told me to be ready for anything in the games. I don't think that he was expecting them to be like this."

"Would you rather that we were out in the forest then?" Eli asks.

"Are you kidding me?" Michael replies. "This is way better than living off of berries."

"How was the hunt last night?" I ask them.

"Meh," Eli says. "Didn't get anyone, but at least we know what it's like over by the cliff now."

"It's quite interesting really," Michael says. "We just ended up looking around. Some of the caves are huge, some have pools in them and others have secret passages leading back into the cliff. We didn't poke around too much though – didn't want to trigger any traps."

"When Howel finally ropes you into going hunting, try to get the forest," Eli says. "It's much easier to hunt there."

I laugh nervously. "Yeah – about that hunting thing? I really need to be able to use a weapon and I can't choose which one to specialise in."

"Well, which one were you best at?" Eli asks.

"None of them, really," I admit.

"Daggers," Michael says. "I think they'd suit you."

"But Howel already uses daggers..."

"That doesn't matter," Michael says dismissively. "You're not always going to be with Howel. And anyway, he uses _a_ dagger. You should use dagger_s_. Plural."

"Two daggers? Isn't that kind of difficult?"

"I was talking to Zozi about it yesterday," Michael says. "She said that you used to dance a lot, back in District Three."

"Yes, but..."

"It's not that different," Eli cuts in. "Dancing and fighting. You need to be nimble, controlled, and aware of your surroundings. You'll be good at it."

Memories of dance lessons fill my mind. My parents always managed to pay for my lessons, despite not having the best wages in the world. I might as well try to put what I learnt to good use. I don't want them to feel like they wasted their money.

"I'll try that then," I say.

Eli smiles. "Trust me, you'll be good. You'll probably like it as well – learning to fight is fun. It's only when you're up against a real, flesh and blood opponent and your life's on the line that it becomes terrible."

"Sounds like great fun," I say.

"It is! I'd help train you, but I'll have to sleep for a lot of today. Got to be ready for the hunt this evening."

"We're not hunting this evening."

I look over my shoulder to see that Howel has entered the dining room. He's leaning against the wall beside a cabinet, his fringe flopping over his eye.

"I thought that we had a rigorous schedule to stick to," Michael remarks.

"I've changed my mind," Howel says. "If we hunt every night then they'll begin to expect it. Instead, we're not hunting at all today. We'll hunt in the day tomorrow."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Michael says with a grin. "Hunting in the dark's really not my thing."

"It seems to be universally disliked," Howel says, taking a seat at the table.

"For a good reason," Michael says. "That cliff was treacherous in the middle of the night."

"I lost count of the number of times that you nearly fell off," Eli says. "It's a shame that we don't have a telly here, we could have seen the action replay!"

"And we could have seen you screaming at that spider," Michael retorts.

"You two aren't being paired up next time," Howel says. "You treat everything like a joke." He turns to me. "And you're coming on the hunt. If you're useless then you'll be the one dying – do I make myself clear?"

My blood runs cold. There's no hint of humour in Howel's tone, not that I expected there to be. I search for words but find none. I can only sit and stare at him, terrified. Luckily, Eli speaks for me.

"Howel, we're a team – you hear that? A team. And we're not going to start killing each other. If you make threats like that again, then I'll kill you."

Hypocritical though her statement was, I'm glad to have an ally. Howel rolls his eyes and leaves the room without saying anything. It's not a victory for us though. He still wants me dead.

Knowing that, I doubt that I'll be able to enjoy the rest of my breakfast.

* * *

**Elsia POV**

I reach the edge of the forest not long after I leave the spot where I fell into a haunted sleep. I had no idea that I was so close to the edge, it felt like I was miles into the forest. I was pretty sure that I'd been heading south as well but, as it turns out, I'm not far from the castle. No wonder the Careers found me.

Just the thought of yesterday makes me feel ill. The entire chase has merged with my dreams forming one twisted nightmare in my memory. What scares me the most is the knowledge that that won't be the most frightening thing to happen to me in the games. I wasn't far from being that screaming girl.

I look around the arena to orientate myself. Now that I have an idea of which way I'm heading, I slip back into the woods. I don't think that I was close enough to the castle for any of the Careers to have spotted me, but you never know.

My stomach growls as I walk through the forest. A bottle of water arrived for me this morning but I'm still hungry. I'll have to get used to not eating – I imagine that it's a situation that I'll frequently find myself in.

And then I almost walk over a cliff. I shriek as the ground disappears in front of me. Nervously, I look down. It's not quite a cliff, really. It would still have been nasty to fall off of though. For about seven metres the ground slopes steeply downward before levelling out again. Not far to my right the slope becomes gentler.

I run down the gradual slope. The wind whips through my hair and dirt blows up beneath my feet. If I stop then I'll fall. It's exhilarating to keep running. The momentum carries me forward and I almost crash into a tree. I put a hand on the tree to steady myself and turn back to face the cliff. I gasp as I see it.

A huge cave mouth where the dirt turns to rock. It gapes like an open wound, the edges jagged. I can't see far inside – darkness consumes the cave quickly. There might be mutts in there waiting to tear me apart. There could be anything, really. But curiosity overtakes fear and I take a few stumbling steps into the cave.

My footsteps echo against the rock. When I stop, the place is completely silent. All of the sounds of the forest have been eaten by the cave. I whistle once and hear the sound dance around invisible walls. I hold my breath and wait for an attack, but it doesn't come. Slightly more confident, I walk further into the cave. I can barely see the floor now. I take small steps, poking the ground in front of me with my toe before settling on it.

I glance back at the entrance. The light is growing further and further away. I need to head back soon. But I haven't discovered the cave's secrets yet. I continue forward, until I spot something out of the corner of my eye. What little light there is catches on a small gold disk. Hesitantly, I move towards it and pick it up. In the half-light I can vaguely make out what it is. A coin. I turn it over in my hands but there's nothing that marks it as anything other than a simple piece of currency.

I return it to the floor and spot another. I look up and see more and more of the coins, a trail leading further back into the cave. Cursing my inquisitiveness, I chase after them. As I follow them, single coins turn into piles. The piles grow until I'm walking through mini-mountains of gold that I cannot see. It's a treasure trove. I can't see the point of it.

Then I walk into something cold and hard. Expecting the worst, I scream. The noise deafens as the cave reflects it back at me. I reach out and find what I've walked into. It's icy beneath my fingers. A thick metal wall, blocking any further progress into the cave. I knock against it and a metallic boom echoes around the cave.

I follow the line of the wall for a while, keeping my hand against it. Eventually, I realise that there is no way through. It's completely solid with no seams or joins holding the metal sheets together. Slightly disappointed that there was nothing in the cave, I head back towards the cave mouth.

That wall wasn't right. It didn't fit in with the rest of the cave. It didn't go with the spiked stalactites and the glittering gold. It's not meant to be there.

* * *

**Was that *gasp* **_**foreshadowing?**_** Why yes, yes it was.**

**Thanks for all of the reviews! You guys are all amazing. I was going to only update with two chapters a week, but this one's going up early because of all of the reviews :)**


	13. Wool

**Luck POV**

Rows of numbers and letters are scrawled in the mud in front of me. I've been doing algebra to waste the hours away. I like algebra – it makes sense. There are rules and set patterns, unlike in the arena. Everything here relies on chance and human nature – the most unreliable thing of all. The only rule here is no cannibalism. That doesn't exactly make me feel at all hopeful.

I can lose myself in algebra. I can forget about the games, I can block out the world and just swim in a sea of numbers and logic. It's relaxing, in a strange way. It's wonderful how you can find reason and patterns in a mess of numbers, how it'll all suddenly click into place. I wish that the real world would sort itself out that easily. I want nothing more than to open my eyes and realise that this has all just been one horrible nightmare.

Stretching my arms above my head, I lean away from my equations. I blink and the arena's still there. Somewhere in this hell is Abi. She could be dying right at this moment, bleeding to death in the mud as some Career watches and laughs. Maybe if I could have been bothered to pry myself away from my maths and face the world, I could have saved her from that hypothetical death. I half expect to hear a cannon and have to remind myself that she's only dead in my imagination. In reality she's probably doing much better than me right now. She's probably found herself some cosy little alliance and is getting along just fine.

But she's not with me.

She's not the one that needs me; I'm the one that needs her.

I remember when I first saw her. It was the first year of school, when I was just five. I was given extra work by the teacher as the other children laughed and played. Apparently it was wrong to not stretch my brain.

So I'd spend the whole day in the corner of the classroom on my own individual table. That doesn't sound like fun to most people. It was to me. I knew even then that I was cleverer than my peers. I couldn't play pretend like the other kids. I couldn't see these wonderful worlds, these alternate realities that their minds conjured up for them. To me, they were just immature and childish. I preferred to spend time with my numbers. Even then, they were the only thing that truly made sense.

But one day, I couldn't get the numbers to work. I didn't know why, but they didn't do what I wanted them to do. They didn't form their neat little patterns; they just sat there on the page creating chaos in my mind. Someone was standing behind me. I knew that they were there and I tried to ignore them. It was probably one of the children that liked to tease me. I knew that it was best not to respond to them. If I blocked them out then they'd just get bored and walk away.

But it wasn't one of them. It was Abi. She simply pointed out what I was doing wrong and then skipped back to whatever game she was playing. I thought that she'd just been joking, but when I tried doing what she said, the numbers worked. I turned to thank her to find that she'd already gone. So I just watched her as she laughed and smiled. She was so normal, but she'd answered a question that not even I could do. After that, I stopped judging my classmates quite so much.

For years and years, our paths would occasionally cross, but we'd never talk to each other much. We didn't have to. I already knew what a wonderful person she was, just from watching her and exchanging a few lines of conversation. I kept meaning to tell her how I felt about her, but I never had the chance. Well, that's a lie. I had plenty of opportunities – I just never had the confidence. I kept telling myself that I'd tell her one day. I guess I'll never get another chance now.

* * *

**Raquelle POV**

I decide to hunt after a morning of sitting by the pool. Not enough's happening. Yve and I are just sitting there, doing nothing but talk. The Gamemakers need some action or we could lose our water source to some convenient disaster.

Armed with my sword and the knife, I head off into the wood, leaving Yve at the pond. I won't go too far or I'll lose her and all of the supplies.

Yve's really not bad, now that I've got to know her. She's really funny and her optimism – which I found annoying at first – has rubbed off on me. I'm beginning to feel like I might have a chance at winning. I'll have to leave Yve at some point though. I really don't want to have to kill her. I don't want to have to kill anyone, but I know that I will. I know that their faces will haunt me long after they're dead but I will kill them in order to stay alive. Every time I close my eyes I see the girl from District Ten, her wide-eyed fear is burnt onto the back of my eyelids for all eternity. I'm glad. I don't want to forget what I've done.

I'm really not sure how this hunting thing will work. I've never had to do it before and I'm painfully aware of my footsteps as I move through the forest. Any potential prey would hear me long before I see it. I'm going to have to get close enough to kill it with a sword as well. Most hunting in the games that I've seen seems to require ranged weapons.

I see a squirrel a few trees away from me and run at it. It's much quicker than me. It scurries up the tree and vanishes. Well, I just lost the first prey that I'd seen in an hour. I curse under my breath and move on, heading vaguely back to the pool. Turns out hunting is not one of my strengths.

A while later, when I'm almost ready to give up, I spot a rabbit amongst the trees. It's blissfully unaware of the world as it sits there eating a leaf. Carefully, I place my sword on the ground and move the knife to my right hand. How hard can throwing knives be? I aim carefully and throw it at the rabbit.

"Damn it!"

I miss. By a long way. Handle first, the knife hits the ground a few feet away from the rabbit. It bounds off into the woods. There's no point in chasing it. Grumbling, I retrieve the knife. Looks like I'll be returning to Yve empty handed. Oh well, at least there's cereal bars at the pool. Yay.

Then I catch movement in the corner of my eye. I spin around, weapons at the ready, but whatever it is has disappeared. I run to where I saw it and again see a blur of white in my peripheral vision. I chase after it, only to be greeted by another glimpse of whatever it is. Again, I follow. What is it? Another tribute? Some kind of animal?

I turn a final corner and realise that I am completely lost. It was just a Gamemaker trick to lead me away from my camp. And I fell for it. Today is really not a good day for me.

Muttering every expletive I know, I turn around, preparing to retrace my steps. But there's a sheep in my way. I blink. I must have gone mad. You don't get sheep in the forest. But there it is – the poofiest, whitest sheep that I've ever seen. It looks big enough to feed Yve and me for the rest of the games. Is that what I was chasing? Sheep aren't that quick.

Normal sheep aren't.

I look at its eyes. They're completely black with no pupil or iris. With a shock, I realise what I'm looking at. A muttation. A sheep? Couldn't they think of something a bit more threatening? I guess it's only the second day of the games, and they're storing the big ones for later.

The sheep opens its mouth in some strange grin. At first, it looks like its head has split in two, revealing solid darkness. As I look harder though, I can make out a border of thin and sharp teeth. Not exactly unexpected. It's a killer sheep – is that all that they have?

I adjust my grip on the sword and let the knife fall to the ground. Time to see if I can kill a mutt.

It runs at me, quicker than I expect it to. I manage to leap aside. My sword misses as I try to hit. Realising my back is to the creature, I spin around in time to see it charge again. I'm close enough to see the light glint off of each of its needle teeth when I jump out of the way. I keep my eyes fixed on it now. It doesn't look like a sheep anymore. It doesn't have wool; it's just a constantly shifting white blob with a head and legs. Taking advantage of a brief moment when it's still, I attempt an attack. I smile as my sword hits home on the thing's back. The satisfaction quickly fades when I realise the sword is stuck. I pull and pull but the blade won't release. I don't think that my attack had any effect on the creature. There's no blood seeping from the wound and when the sword struck I didn't feel much resistance. The sheep's head swivels to face me. It lunges towards me and, with a yelp, I stagger backwards, leaving the sword in the sheep's back.

I can't run. That thing is too fast. It would catch me before I even get out of the clearing. My only chance is to stay and fight.

As fast as I can, I dash to the knife that I dropped. Although it will most likely be useless against my attacker, I feel slightly more confident with a weapon in my hand.

I wait for the sheep to charge again. This time, I slice the knife across its face as I evade the attack. It gives a horrible cry of pain, but once again my victory is short-lived. Only now it's me, not my weapon, that's stuck.

My hand had glanced the sheep's back as it charged. The "wool" feels soft under my fingers, but strangely sticky, like dough. I try to pull away, but it sucks me back. My forearm touches the substance, and sticks as well. Panic fills me and without thinking I grab my stuck arm and try to pull it away. Sure enough, my fingers stick. I scream expletives mixed with pure fear as my pulse races. I don't care if anyone hears. I want them to. I don't want to die stuck to the back of a fanged sheep.

The sheep turns and I swing to one side like I'm some extra lame limb. The movement pulls at my arm, and pain flares as my elbow is jerked out of place. I pound at the sheep's back with the few remaining parts of my arms that I can control. I only manage to get myself even more stuck.

The sheep's snapping at me with its horrible, wide mouth as blood drips into its eyes. I squirm away, but its mouth locks onto my boot. The thick leather prevents it from reaching my skin. It releases me, leaving dotted teeth marks in the boot. I kick out at its face. I'm rewarded by a crunch from beneath my sole.

Straining my neck to see, I glance up at the sheep. Blood oozes from the cracks in its crumpled face, but its twisted jaws snap more ferociously than ever. I kick again and again. As I miss, its mouth clamps down on my leg. The hide of the trousers offers no resistance and the teeth rip through into my flesh. I scream as pain burns through me. More and more blood drips from the creature's broken head. Not its blood though. _My_ blood. It's sucking it from my leg. As I realise this I yell again and thrash even harder to escape the mutt's grip. I won't die like this. I can't.

My other foot slams into its head, tearing my leg free. Dizziness is beginning to cloud my head, but I continue to kick and stamp until the sheep's head completely shatters. It collapses, leaving me stuck to the wool. As I lie there, on the body of my enemy, surrounded by doughy wool and blood, I stare at the sky. Through the beautiful leaves of the forest, it really is perfect. I take deep breaths, my chest rising and falling steadily as my vision fades. The wound on my leg is bleeding heavily, but the pain doesn't quite seem real.

I fall into unconsciousness, my eyelids finally blocking out the forest.

I hope I'll wake up.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**Once again, I'd really appreciate feedback on this one. I hope that the action made sense, I'm always nervous when it comes to writing fight scenes.**


	14. Climb

**Michael POV**

I look out of the window, out into the courtyard. It's a simple place with a large tree in the centre, the bark slashed and cut from Abi's training. She's taking a break at the moment, sitting on a stone bench with a book in her hands while Zozi sharpens her blades. They seem to be getting on a bit better now. They would barely speak when they started training this morning but seem to have warmed to each other slightly. Not that either of them seem particularly fond of the other though.

I won't be able to kill them. I doubt I'll be able to kill any of the Careers. In other years, the Career pack has been for convenience. The alliances in it were nothing more than that – people who used each other to survive. But we're fine in our cosy castle. Allies are straying dangerously close to being friends. Of course Eli's my friend but I didn't expect to like any of the others. It's hard to dislike Abi and even Zozi can provide interesting conversation. Cerra has turned out to be surprisingly ok. She even helped me find a new shirt and a sweatervest to wear. I've always liked sweatervests, I think that they make me look sophisticated. Dad wouldn't let me wear one for the reaping because he didn't think that it fitted with the "Career Ideal". Well, I'm in a castle now – I can do whatever I like.

I still don't get on well with Howel. Luckily for me, he's found himself a tower to lock himself up in. I haven't seen him much today, which is definitely a good thing. I was talking to Cerra earlier and she told me how he killed the girl last night. No wonder she screamed so much – the guy's a psychopath.

"Hey Michael!"

I turn to see Eli grinning in the doorway.

"Come and see what I've found!"

She grabs my wrist and pulls me away from the window and out of the room.

"What is it?" I ask.

"It's not much but..." She drags me down the stairs. "It's something to make our time here a bit less dull."

She guides me into a lounge on the second floor of the castle. A dark table with gold designs etched into the surface dominates the room. There are six chairs sat at it and two red sofas in the far end of the room. But Eli is gesturing excitedly at an open cabinet that is pressed against the wall. I follow her to the cabinet as she pulls out boxes.

"Games!" she says. "We can actually have fun in the Hunger Games – can you believe it?"

I crouch down beside her and look at the boxes. Sure enough, they contain a variety of board games. Laughing, I pick up the top box – a thousand-pieced jigsaw – to see what's beneath it. Packs of cards, charades and standard games.

"That's pretty awesome actually," I say.

Eli takes the puzzle from me. "And this is what you need to see the most."

She removes the lid – which has a very dull picture of a flower on it. The puzzle pieces inside of the box don't look like they could make that picture in any way. I frown as I look at them. They're mostly green or grey, some with fragments of words on them. Realisation dawns on me.

"It's a map of the arena," I say.

"Exactly!" Eli takes out one of the pieces. Towards the edge the green changes abruptly to blue. "With water sources marked on it. I've found some with mutt locations on them as well."

I understand why she's so excited. If we can put the map together then it'll be a useful tool during the hunts and for when we finally have to leave the castle. We'll know where to find supplies and how to avoid danger. With a map, we'll win.

"Well, looks like we're one puzzle away from victory," I say, smiling.

* * *

**Uwel POV**

I hate it out on the cliff face. I'm fine in the caves – I feel vaguely safe there. Out on the cliff face, on the thin ledges that wind their way up the cliff, I could fall at any moment. I need to keep going or fear will freeze me. The air slices at me and I press myself back against the rock. With each trembling step that I take, my feet send pebbles cascading off of the edge of the path. Ahead of me, Samkin seems unfazed by the height and is stable on his feet as he walks. Lecks walks behind me, babbling inanely about something-or-other. He tends to do that when he's scared. I don't risk a look back at him, but I imagine that he's shaking more than me.

"Wait!" Samkin calls back at us, stopping abruptly.

I force myself to stop but feel even more exposed and venerable when I do. I can't see what's made Samkin stop, he's blocking my way.

"The path ends," Samkin explains.

"What?" Lecks shouts. "What do you mean – it ends?"

"It just stops," Samkin says. "It drops away not far ahead."

"Then what are we going to do?" I ask.

I really don't feel like trying to turn around on the path. Samkin is silent for a moment before speaking again.

"We're going to have to climb."

That sounds like an even worse idea than turning around. Lecks doesn't seem that pleased about it either.

"Like – up the cliff?" he exclaims. "I can't do that!"

"You're going to have to," Samkin says. "Uwel – follow me up and we'll help Lecks."

I look up the rock face. Although I can just about make out a way up, it still looks treacherous. There are small ledges on the way up, but it's a long way up before there's another path.

"Um... I'm not sure..." I say.

"It's not a difficult climb," Samkin says. "You'll be able to do it. Just think that you're on the ground."

"But we're not on the ground!" Lecks shouts. "We're hundreds of feet in the air!"

"Lecks, shut up," I snap.

I'm not good at climbing. I could barely make it up onto the ledge in our old cave. When I look at the cliff, I only see myself falling.

Samkin has already started to climb. His hands and feet find holds that I would never have been able to spot. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I tell myself that I'm on the ground. My trembling hand settles on the cliff. It's the base of the cliff, that's all. If I fall I may graze my knee but nothing worse than that will happen. My eyes open. If I don't look to my right, to the precipice that waits for me, then I might be able to believe my transparent lie.

Still shaking, I follow Samkin up the rock. It's rough beneath my fingers. Stones skitter off the cliff when my feet move. Several times, I almost slip and I can feel the drop calling me. But I manage to stay on the rocks, my knuckles white as I grip to the handholds. Samkin's route up isn't too bad. I don't have to reach too far to find a new handhold and there are no complicated manoeuvres involved. It's still terrifying though.

I only look down when I reach one of the ledges. My breaths are shallow as I peer down the wall of rock. Lecks seems so far away, still on the path. I can barely make out his facial features any more.

"Lecks!" Samkin calls from a ledge somewhere higher up. "Climb up or we'll leave you here!"

Lecks shouts something back but his words are garbled by the wind.

"Climb!" Samkin demands harshly.

There's a pause, then Lecks hesitantly begins to make his way up the cliff. I try to give him an encouraging smile and turn back to the wall. I've got this high already. Now I can reach the top.

The sun beats down on me as I scale the cliff. I'm beginning to get more confident, worrying less as I find each new handhold. I almost forget about how high up I am. I reach the path and Samkin helps to pull me up. Exhausted and laughing with relief, I collapse onto the path. I let my legs dangle off of the edge of the path. It's not like my fear of heights has been killed, but knowing that I managed to climb this high has filled me with confidence.

"Good job," Samkin says. "I told you that it wouldn't be hard."

I grin and look down at Lecks. He's not doing as well as me. He seems to be screaming constantly and tries to put his weight onto ledges that definitely won't support him. I'm not sure how I'd feel if he fell. He's a nice enough guy but a useless ally.

I sit by Samkin until Lecks is almost at the top. His breaths are shallow and his eyes are wide as he gets nearer.

"Almost there," he whispers.

He reaches for a ledge and lifts his foot at the same time. The ledge gives way beneath his fingers. He shouts as dust falls into his eyes. With only one foot and one hand on the rock, he's going to fall. As quickly as I can, I grab his hand. His fingers grip my wrist just as his foot slips. I'm pulled down by the sudden effort of supporting Lecks. He's screaming profanities as he dangles from the cliff. I grit my teeth and try to stay on the path. I have no idea what to do. I can't pull him up. If I let go, then Lecks' death will be my fault. So I'm left in this horrible limbo, knowing that I'm the only thing preventing Lecks from dying.

Samkin grabs Lecks' other hand as he flails for a handhold. Relief washes over me as I only have to bear half of his weight.

"Pull me up, you idiots!" Lecks squeaks.

Samkin smirks and lets Lecks' hand slide slightly out of his. "Not if you talk to me like that."

"Help me! Please!" Lecks yells, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Uwel." Samkin glances at me. "Ready?"

I nod and put all of my effort into heaving Lecks up. It's so hard – I feel like my arm could be torn off at any moment. Lecks' feet scurry against the rock and for a moment I think that we're all going to fall. But then Lecks is lying on the path, panting and whispering thanks. I back away from the edge, rubbing my aching arm.

For a while we sit there in the dry heat of the sun, inconsequential conversation flitting between us. When we've all recovered we set off along the winding path again. Compared to climbing, the path feels almost stable.

After half an hour or so, we reach a cave that's almost at the very top of the cliff. We'd passed several on the way but Samkin insisted on continuing. I can understand his reasoning. The higher up we are, the further away we are from the Careers. But still, the worn out me was beginning to get a little irritated at Samkin's reluctance to stop. When he finally went into a cave, Lecks cheered. He'd been moaning even more than me.

It's a huge cave, much bigger than any that we've been in before. Stalactites drip from the ceiling and chips of blue crystal shine dimly in the walls. Somewhere within, I hear the trickle of water. The temperature within the cavern is significantly lower than outside and I shiver as a rush of icy air rips past me.

We turn a corner and the cave opens up even wider. In the middle of the cavern is a shallow pool of water that gleams an unnatural turquoise. Water drips from the ceiling, forming ripples on the surface. My fingers twist together. My eyes catch a glimpse of white under the surface and I shuffle to the edge of the pool. I kneel down and look out into the water. I knew something about this place wasn't right. The water, the cold air, Lecks' uncharacteristic silence – it's all wrong. But those little harbingers are nothing compared to what lies in the pool.

I fight back a wave of nausea and a stream of tears as I see her. Just beneath the surface, dressed in a flowing white dress with her blonde hair floating around her like a halo, is Hero.

* * *

**Cliffhanger! (In both the literal and figurative sense)**

**Let me know what you think!**


	15. Death's Embrace

**Lecks POV**

With a hand covering his mouth, Uwel stares out into the pool. He's shaking violently and tears are beginning to leak down his cheeks.

"Uwel?" Samkin asks, taking a knife from his belt.

He runs to Uwel's side and crouches beside him. His eyes widen as he sees whatever Uwel's staring at.

"Oh..." he whispers, his voice trailing off.

Rubbing my arm, I wander over casually. Whatever's in that pool can't be good but I can't help being interested. I have to stifle a laugh when I see what they're looking at. It's just a girl. She's almost as pale as the white dress that she wears and doesn't exactly look alive, but it's still just a girl. Then I realise that I recognise her.

"I thought you said that your girlfriend is dead!" I say.

"She is," Samkin replies.

Uwel doesn't react; he only stares at the girl.

"She's there," he whispers after a while. "Right there. Like I could reach out and..."

His fingertips stroke the surface of the water. Samkin grabs his hand and pulls him back.

"It's a trap, Uwel."

"It's Hero..."

"Not bad looking, your girl," I say, trying to snap Uwel out of his dazed state.

"Lecks!" Samkin snaps.

I shrug and stroll away from them. It's not like the girl is doing anything. She's just there. I don't see what all of the fuss is about. If I saw the girl from my district in the pool, I'd walk on without thinking about it. I know that she's dead. Whatever's under the water is either a corpse or a model.

I walk around the pool until I'm closer to the girl. The strange glow from the blue crystals catches on her porcelain skin. She looks different from how I remember her. It's like she's a perfect version of herself with smooth skin and flawless hair. I reach towards her.

My hand slips under the water. That's all it is, despite the odd colour. It's water. Keeping one hand on the rock to steady myself, I lean further out until she's within my reach.

"Lecks!" I hear Samkin yell. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm getting Uwel's girl for him," I call back.

"Get away from her!" Samkin shouts.

But I don't. I'm so close to her now, I might as well get her out of the water. I can barely look away from her pale face as her hair dances in the water around her. I find her hand. It's as cold as the water around it. As my fingers touch hers, her eyes snap open. Huge eyes, staring up at the roof of the cave. She sits up, gasping as she surfaces.

I recoil away from her. I wasn't expecting that. I was sure that she was dead. The curtain of her wet hair sticks to her neck as she treads water.

"Hero!" Uwel shouts.

He's not smiling. His eyes are wide with fear as he looks at his dead girlfriend. Hero doesn't notice him. Her eyes are fixed on me.

"Uwel," she whispers.

"Um... no... I'm Lecks," I say but it doesn't matter, she's swimming towards me anyway.

She pulls herself up out of the pool, her sodden dress clinging to her. She sits there opposite me, not far away, her eyes boring into me. I hear my heartbeat quickening in my ears. Uwel is still calling her name and Samkin is holding him back.

"Uwel..." she whispers again.

"Lecks," I say, but I know it's pointless.

She crawls towards me and I push myself away from her. My back hits the wall of the cave and she reaches me. With her freezing fingertips she strokes my cheek. I jump up onto my feet and she follows me. A strange, vacant smile finds its way onto her lips.

"I love you, Uwel," she says softly.

"I'm Uwel!" I hear Uwel yell.

I glance over Hero's shoulder and see Uwel struggling in Samkin's grip, tears streaming down his red face. Hero strokes my cheek again, still smiling.

I'm not usually one to ignore the advances of a pretty girl, regardless of who she's going out with. The fact that Hero's dead makes this whole situation more than a little unusual though.

I clear my throat. "Hero, this really isn't a good idea..."

She ignores me and pulls me into a kiss. She's cold, so cold. I feel the water from her arms and hands sinking into my tunic as she wraps her arms around me. Eventually, I find the strength to break the kiss but I remain in her arms, shivering. It's not that it was a bad kiss. Again, I think the fact that she's dead has something to do with it.

Uwel is screaming now, fighting against Samkin. Samkin is saying something to him, but I can't hear it over the pounding of my own pulse.

"I love you, Uwel," Hero says again.

Then I hear a click as her head lolls at a strange angle. It's too loose – almost like she was a rag doll. Almost like her neck was broken.

I yell and try to push her away but her grip on me is so strong. It only gets tighter as she pulls me further into an embrace. My skin crawls as she smiles at me.

"You let me die," she says in a hissing whisper. "I love you, Uwel."

Now it's my name that Uwel's calling.

"You let me die."

I whimper as her grip tightens. This isn't a girl at all. This is some kind of mutt. I knew it. She's too perfect. Hero's dead. This thing isn't her.

"You let me die."

Samkin pushes Uwel down and sprints towards me, drawing a second dagger as he does so. It's too late though. I'm in the clutches of a Capitol creation. I'm going to die.

I'm going to die. The thought fills me with endless fear. I was going to win the games, there was no other option. I can't die. No... no...

The creature presses her lips against mine.

"I love you, Uwel," she whispers into me.

She forces me into a final kiss. I should have known that my ability to be irresistible to any girl, dead or alive, would be my downfall. This time I don't protest. I close my eyes and let her kiss me. I don't know how I'd have chosen to die, but with a kiss isn't bad.

"Lecks!" Samkin yells.

Then Hero explodes.

* * *

**Uwel POV**

I've just seen my girlfriend – my _dead_ girlfriend – come back to life. I've just seen my girlfriend passionately kiss an annoying orange idiot who I could have called a friend. I've just seen my girlfriend explode.

One minute, Lecks was locked in Hero's arms. The next moment, neither of them were there. Where Hero had been, there was a vaguely human shaped mass of blades and metal. Lecks' tangled corpse was skewered like a pin cushion, still in a grisly embrace. There's so much blood. It dribbles from what used to be Lecks and reaches the water, where it dances away into the turquoise. Samkin is inches away from the mess of metal and flesh. His dagger is raised, ready for an attack that never happened. His eyes are wide as he stares at the mangled body. I throw up. I'd felt ill as soon as I saw Hero. Seeing my ally die was enough to force it out of me. I collapse back onto the floor, shaking like mad.

A cannon cuts through the air. I don't think any of us needed to be told that Lecks was dead.

With the hiss of metal sliding against metal, the blades shrink away, back into Hero's skin. She's there again, flawless and human as Lecks' body collapses. Red blood covers her white dress and mats her hair. She smiles at Samkin, who stands his ground.

"Uwel," he says calmly. "Run."

I try to. I attempt to stand but my legs are shaking too much and I can barely take a step before I collapse. Samkin curses under his breath.

For a moment, neither Hero nor Samkin move. Then they both attack. Blades slide from the back of Hero's wrists and she slices towards Samkin. He leaps backward and throws a knife. With a metallic thump it embeds itself between Hero's eyes. She just smiles and attacks again. Samkin takes another knife from his belt but turns and runs towards the cave mouth. He's quick, but so is Hero. Her slicing blades are never far behind him.

She's not a mutt – she can't be. Mutts can die. She's a robot. I've seen them in the Hunger Games before, these indestructible killing machines. Samkin may be a good fighter but he's nothing compared to his opponent.

There's a clash as he parries an attack. If he dies here, I'll be alone. I don't want to lose two allies in one day. I pull my knife from my belt and climb to my feet, a new determination burning inside of me. My muscles are tense as I run through the cave, my feet skidding against the floor. I come to an awkward stop not far from the entrance. Hero and Samkin are fighting, their blades moving so quickly that I can barely follow what's happening. Samkin doesn't attack. He can only evade and parry the relentless stream of attacks coming from the robot.

"Run!" he yells.

In his brief moment of distraction, a blade bites into his arm. He cries out but carries on fighting as blood spills from the wound. I could get past them. I could run out of this cave and find a place to hide. I could live at the cost of Samkin's life.

I don't. Wildly I slash at Hero and my knife cuts deep into her skin, drawing a line from her shoulder to her spine. There's no blood, she doesn't even flinch. Beneath the skin I can see the mechanisms that power her. They swell and move like muscle as she spins round, slicing at me with a blade. I manage to avoid it somehow and I jump away again as her second arm attacks. I can't keep this up for long. I'm already panting and my forehead is moist with sweat.

There's a thunk and Hero turns back on Samkin, revealing another knife stuck in her neck. We can't kill this thing, it's too strong.

Samkin's running out of the cave, clutching his bleeding arm. Hero chases him, cutting through the air inches away from his flesh. I pause for a moment to catch my breath and then hurtle after them. I'm not going to let Samkin die for me. I should have died on day one. Because of him, I'm still here. It's a debt that needs to be repaid.

I turn the corner out of the cave mouth and see Samkin struggling to evade an attack while managing to maintain his balance on the ledge. I glance over my shoulder. Not far in the other direction, the path ends. An idea hits me. A foolish, reckless idea, but an idea nonetheless.

As Samkin dodges another attack, I throw my knife at Hero with all of my might. The hilt hits her back and the knife bounces off, dropping off of the edge of the cliff. It's enough to get her attention. She turns and smiles at me before charging, blades prepared for an attack. I force myself to turn and run along the ledge. It's getting thinner and thinner and I'm getting less and less sure of my footing. I reach the edge and look down for a split second at the sheer drop onto the rocks below. I turn and meet Hero's eyes. The large, sparkling eyes that I used to look into so lovingly. But that's not Hero. That thing is a machine. It's not far away. If I'm going to do this, I've got to do it now.

I step backwards as she reaches me. The rock disappears from beneath my feet and I'm falling. I thrust my arm up and my fingers manage to catch on the rock. I wince as pain shoots through me and my arms feel like they're jerked out of their sockets. I catch a glance of Hero running over the cliff, chasing me. Then I squeeze my eyes shut and press myself against the rock. Somewhere far beneath me there is a crashing sound.

I can't hold on for long. I'm too weak and I'm still shaking. I'm dangling hundreds of feet in the air with only my fingers to stop me from falling.

"Uwel!"

It's Samkin. I open my eyes to see him standing at the edge of the cliff, holding out a hand. Conjuring up a last scrap of strength, I grab hold of his hand. His other hand closes around mine and he cries out in pain as he pulls me up. His left sleeve is soaked with blood. Somehow, despite his injury, he manages to heave me up onto the ledge.

I rub my aching fingers and look down over the edge. Hundreds of feet below, I can vaguely make out the robot's broken body. Not even a machine could survive that fall. We've done it – we won. I smile and notice for the first time that I'm still crying. I think I'm allowed to, given the situation.

"I was meant to die," I whisper. "Not Lecks. That trap was meant for me. She kept saying my name. I was meant to die in her arms."

"Lecks was an idiot," Samkin says, unzipping his backpack. "We could have all survived that."

"Thanks for stopping me," I say.

Samkin pulls off his jacket and takes a bandage from the backpack. He winds it tightly around the cut on his arm. The bandages are already red by the time he finishes.

"It was nothing," he says.

"You saved my life," I say. "I'd have tried to get to her if you weren't there." I pause, replaying the battle in my mind. "Gamemakers are sick bastards, aren't they? That trap... that was evil. To take Hero, to take what she meant to me, it's twisted."

"That's their job," Samkin says. "To make your nightmares real."

He stands up, testing his arm.

"Come on, we need to find somewhere to rest."

"Not that cave, please," I say.

Lecks' body is still in there. I never want to see that place again.

"We'll find another one," Samkin says, swinging the bag onto his back. "Well done, by the way."

I nod. I can't really be proud of destroying the machine. I let Lecks die. It was Samkin who held me back at the pool. If it weren't for him, all three of us would be dead.

Samkin gives me a new knife and we head off along the cliff. I hate these caves. Who knows what could be in the others? It's only day three of the games. The Gamemakers will be saving even more deadly tricks for later.

* * *

**In a weird way, I really enjoyed writing this chapter - it's one of those scenes that I've had in my head since I began this fic. I'm going to miss Lecks though - he was a lot of fun to write. **

**As always, let me know what you think! I love getting reviews :)**


	16. Confession

_**Day 4**_

**Raquelle POV**

I'm dead, I must be. By that logic, when I open my eyes I must be in some kind of afterlife. But this afterlife looks a lot like the arena. And Yve's here. She's sitting by a fire, holding my sword in the flames.

"You're awake!" she exclaims.

"I'm dead..." I whisper.

"No, you're still alive," Yve says, smiling. "You're lucky that I found you. And you're lucky we have such nice sponsors."

"But I bled to death," I say, remembering my fight with the sheep mutt.

"Wrong again!" Yve says. "You did bleed a lot, but you're alive."

I sit up, my dazed eyes taking in the situation. I'm back at the pool where we'd set up a camp. My leg is bandaged but doesn't hurt. Where there should be pain there's just numbness. Scraps of the white wool are still stuck to my clothes. I poke it. It's spongy and my finger doesn't stick to it.

"That stuff's horrible," Yve explains, watching me. "I had to cut you out of that creature. I was worried that it wasn't going to come off but then I got some matches from our sponsors. You have to burn it off." She waves the sword in the air, the blade perfectly clean after being in the fire. "It's like a fungus that infected District Seven a while ago. Once it's on something, it doesn't let go. We had to burn a lot of trees that year. So yeah, I got as much of it off of you as I could."

"Thanks," is all I manage to say. I'm slightly overwhelmed.

"No problem," Yve says. "We got sent some stuff for your leg as well. I did what I could with the first aid kit, but you still looked pretty bad. Then this needle arrived. I didn't know what it was but I guessed that I had to inject you. The bleeding stopped pretty quickly – I think you're gonna live."

She grins. I'm about to complain about here injecting strange substances into me, but I realise how petty and ungrateful that would make me seem. So I just smile back. I guess it was a good idea to keep Yve as an ally after all.

* * *

**Howel POV**

I woke this morning full of excitement. After a day of hanging around the castle, I can't wait to get out into the arena and hunt. I'm going to make another kill today. The death of the girl from District Nine feels so long ago, I need fresh blood on my hands again. The orange kid's face was in the sky last night. Shame – he'd have been fun to kill. I bet he'd have screamed.

The others should be able to get some kills as well – they're a good group of Careers. Maybe Abi will die. That'd be good. As much as I'd love to kill her myself, I need to keep Zozi on my side. She's probably the best member of our little group – cold, calculating and dangerous. Without her sister, she'll be unstoppable. But I need her to be my ally. I'll even let her team up with Abi today, if it means that she'll trust me more.

At the breakfast table, I can sense the excitement in everyone else. They're all hungry for blood. It's their Career instinct. They've been training to kill for years, and now they finally have a chance. As much as Michael wants to come across as a reluctant Career, I know that he's just as desperate for a kill as I am, if only to keep his sponsors interested.

"So who's going with who?" It's Eli that asks the question. She's looking at me as she speaks. Good – she can tell who's in charge here.

"Abi and Zozi in the forest," I say, spotting a look a relief on both of their faces. "Michael and Cerra will go with them, and I'll take the cliffs."

"And I'm with you?" Eli asks.

"I thought you'd be clever enough to work that out," I say.

"We should leave soon," Zozi says. "We can get a full day of hunting out of this."

"Should I make packed lunches?" Abi asks.

"No," I snap automatically.

"But we're going to be out all day, we're going to get hungry," Abi says.

I hate her. I really do, with her 'wide-eyed innocence'. I hope that she dies today, preferably in a slow and painful way.

"This is the Hunger Games," I say. "We do not have packed lunches in the Hunger Games."

"Just a couple of sandwiches..." she says.

"I think it's a great idea," Eli says. "We should all take some basic first aid things as well. We've got enough backpacks for everyone to carry their stuff with them."

"Fine," I say. "Just be ready to go in an hour or so."

I don't want to make enemies here, but I definitely don't want to make friends either. I'll let them have their fun, as long as there are deaths at the end of it.

* * *

**Luck POV**

Well, here I am. Day four and I'm not dead yet. I don't have long left though. My bread ran out yesterday. I did manage to find a small stream though. I was cautious about drinking the water at first but I gave in eventually. It was the first good thing that's happened to me since the games began.

I wonder why I haven't died. Even though the other tributes haven't found me, I can't be much fun to watch. It's incredible that the Gamemakers haven't set some nasty trap for me to fall into. I think I'd prefer a quick Career death, if the choice was between that or being torn apart by the Capitol's mutts.

There have only been two deaths since the bloodbath – quite slow for the games really. There better be enough action happening somewhere or the audience will get bored. And when the audience are bored is when the disasters happen. Like always, I'm going to assume that today is the last day of my life. If I'm proved wrong, I'll be happy. If I'm right, I won't be disappointed.

So I think it's time I did something. I can't die without saying it.

"Hey! Hey Capitol!"

I jump up and down, waving my arms around wildly, hoping to get the attention of a camera.

"Look at me! Look at me!"

Frantically hopping from foot to foot I attempt to smile. It comes out as a pained grimace.

"Okay, okay," I say, sitting down on a fallen log. "I should have your attention now." I wave in a vague direction that a camera might be in. "If I don't then this is heard by no one except me. So, yeah. I'm Luck Barnes, District Three male tribute, sixty-seventh Hunger Games. Just saying that in case you've forgotten who I am. Sorry that I haven't been particularly interesting, by the way. I'll try to make my death entertaining; it's pretty obvious that I'm not going to win. But anyway, I've got something to say. Don't worry, it's nothing controversial, you don't need to cut away. It's just something I've been meaning to say for a long time. I never had the confidence to say this, but I guess that imminent death really makes you do those things that you've always wanted to. Okay, here goes." I take a deep breath, trembling slightly. I can't honestly be frightened of saying it. "I love Abigayl Dowl. And I've been in love with her for ages. I'm not going to live long enough to tell this to her, but I had to say it, at least once. I love her. It's quite nice to say, actually. If she wins the games, please show her this. I want her to know how I feel. It's selfish of me, but let's make this my last request. Abi – if you're watching this, then well done on winning. I knew that you'd be able to do this. I love you." I stop, feeling strangely empty as tears bite at my eyes. "Okay, you can cut back to something more interesting now. But thanks for giving me the chance to say this."

Part of me expects a reply. The only answer is the sounds of the forest.

I get up from my perch on the tree and stretch my arms out above my head. There, I've done it. I'm never going to achieve any of my other dreams but at least I managed to tick one off of my list. With no more goals for me to reach for, I might as well get out into the arena and enjoy myself. Yes, enjoy myself. There are plenty of interesting plants in this artificial ecosystem – I could study them for hours. I'll try and work out if the arena could actually exist in the wild. That's fun for me. Something nice and practical to take my mind off of whatever fate lurks for me in these woods. It's not like I'm going to suddenly become awesome, kill all of the Careers and escape the arena with Abi. So I might as well be me.

First, I need something to eat. Let's go try some of those plants. If they're poisonous then I'll die. If not then, hey, I've got lunch.

* * *

**Just a little chapter this time, some light fillery stuff after the last chapter.**

**Thanks again for all of the reviews :)**


	17. Cacophony of Wings

**Abi POV**

"See, I knew that we'd need sandwiches!" I say as I unzip my backpack.

It feels like we've been in the forest for ages and it's a relief to have the weight of the bag off of my back. My feet are aching and my stomach's rumbling. A short break with refreshments sounds like a very good idea indeed. Zozi doesn't seem to agree.

"Stop making so much noise," she hisses, not joining me as I sit down with a sandwich. "Do you want everyone to know where we are?"

"Well I don't particularly want to kill them. So yes, if it frightens them off."

I take a bite out of my sandwich. Even the simplest of things taste good if they're an award.

"You realise that if you don't kill anyone then Howel will murder you?" Zozi snaps. "There's a reason that you're on this hunt."

I shrug. "Look, I'm trying my best. I'm not deliberately trying to draw attention to us or anything. It's just a side effect of making conversation."

"You're not trying to make conversation" And you couldn't be any better at drawing attention to yourself – look what you're wearing! What does Cerra think she's doing, dressing you up like some kind of doll?"

"It's practical," I reply.

"It's purple!"

"So are the trees." I take another bite of the sandwich. "Really, it's better camouflage than the red tops. Much more comfortable as well."

I stroke the sleek fabric of the top that Cerra found for me. It reminds me of the dress I wore in the chariot – purple at first glance but it glistens silver in certain lights. Cerra would have made a good stylist, if she'd been born in the Capitol. It's strange to think how different all of our lives would be if we lived in that place. I'd probably watch the games with rapt attention, cheering for my favourite tribute and enjoying the violence. I wouldn't know any better.

When she thinks I'm not looking, Zozi takes her own sandwich out of her bag. I hide a smile as I finish mine. If I force myself to forget about her betrayal, Zozi's still the same person that she was in District Three. She's still my sister.

Somewhere far above me I hear the musical call of a bird. I look around the forest and catch glimpses of small animals darting through the trees. In the distance, a stream bubbles gently. It's all so peaceful, so beautiful, that I can't help but smile.

But this is the games.

"What does it feel like when you kill someone?" I ask.

"What?" Zozi says, looking up. "Well... it's hard to explain. You don't feel much until the adrenaline wears off, but then it hits you. It's then that you realise that that person you just killed was, well, a person. That they had a life, family, friends, dreams, ambitions, and you've shattered all of that in just a few seconds. If there's a scrap of humanity in you then you'll never forget their face. But there's also this feeling of immense power, knowing that you can control life and death. If you're not careful, that feeling can get to your head and you'll kill and kill again to get that rush of power, until you start to forget the faces."

"Sounds... lovely," I say as the words sink in. It's not a pretty picture, but I didn't expect it to be.

"Remember," Zozi continued, her stern gaze fixed on me. "No matter what you do here, no matter who you kill, it's because you have to. You're not doing it out of choice. It's the Capitol. They're killing through you. Always remember that. It won't make it any less painful, but you should know that you're not to blame."

Suddenly, my mind flashes back to the Justice Building, when I said my last goodbyes to my family. _"I want you to know that whatever happens to me in there, whatever I do in there, it's not my fault, or the other tributes. It's the Capitol."_ But it feels different when it's being said to me. Like I'm a spectator of my own life, constantly judging myself. Which I guess I am.

"If that boy from your district had killed me at the Cornucopia," I say quietly, "then would you have still thought that that was just the Capitol? Or would you still have put those arrows in his back."

"That was different," Zozi says, stiffening. "I was protecting you. Just because the Capitol thinks they can kill you off doesn't mean that I agree. All of the lives in this arena are valuable, but that doesn't mean that I won't end any of them without a moment's thought if it means protecting you."

I nod slowly, feeling horribly ungrateful. Zozi's been trying so hard to repay her debt to me. She's saved my life, taught me to fight and is protecting me from Howel, just by existing. I hate to admit it, but I wouldn't do the same for her. I'd turn and run away from danger, which is what she'd want me to do of course. I'd want to save her, but I guess that I'm a coward really. I'm too worried about keeping myself alive.

One day, before I die, I will become strong enough to be the protector rather than the damsel in distress. I don't want anyone to have to sacrifice their lives for me, especially not Zozi. I want to be able to stand and fight and maybe, just maybe, win.

* * *

**Rhian POV**

I see the parachute before Cray or Connor. I rush forward and catch the silver package before it hits the ground. It's quite large and heavy. I shake it eagerly, hoping for the promising rattle of weapons. Instead, there's a dull thump. Cray runs to my side and leans in to watch as I rip the paper off. It's a loaf of bread. Well, we did need food, so it's not bad. There's a small box accompanying it. Cray picks it p and opens it. Inside are three dark blue berries.

"That looks like a great meal," Connor remarks, looking into the box.

I can't help but feel similarly annoyed. "Three! What good's that going to do?"

"I'm sure that there's some reason for them..." Cray says.

Connor pops one into his mouth.

"You idiot! That could be poisonous!" I exclaim.

"Why would they send us poison?" Connor asks, swallowing the berry.

"So we could use it as a weapon?" I suggest. The idea does sound a little odd. I'm sure we'd need more than three berries for that.

Cray and eye wait with bated breath, eyes fixed on Connor. After a minute or so, I assume that they're not poisonous – Connor looks as alive as ever.

"Do you suddenly feel full or something?" Cray asks.

Connor shakes his head. "It's just a berry.

"Great," I mutter. "What are we meant to do with three berries?"

"Two berries," Cray corrects me.

"Fine – two berries! It's still as good as useless!" I roughly tear off some of the bread. "They're just berries! If they were apples or something it'd be okay, but they're berries! Tiny little berries that don't do anything. We can find berries in the arena for goodness' sake!"

There's a pause as the others try to think of something to say that won't set me off again. It's Cray who breaks the silence.

"That's the point," he says softly, a smile widening on his face.

"What?"

"We can find them in the arena!" Cray clicks his fingers. "It's a guide to what's edible! None of us can identify these plants, the berries were sent to help us out!"

"Are you sure?" Connor says, glancing at me.

"I'm positive! Our mentors aren't stupid. They wouldn't send us the berries if there was no reason for them."

"I'm still not convinced," Connor says.

Cray sighs and runs past him into a clearing. I call his name and chase after him, tucking the loaf of bread under my arm. Running off really isn't the most sensible thing that he could have done.

"Here!"

I break into the clearing and see Cray standing proudly by a dark-leaved bush. He holds up one of the berries to the identical berries that hang from the plant. Damn it, he was right. With a crash, Connor hurtles into the clearing behind me, already panting. He can't have run more than a few metres. I don't look back at him as I speak.

"Connor, see if they're edible."

"Why me?"

"You didn't seem worried earlier," I say. "Go on. If Cray's right then you'll be fine."

"I... you... that's..." Connor clears his throat. "Fine. But if I die it's all your fault, Stonat!"

I give a snort of laughter as he strides over to the bush. I can see a vague flash of fear in his eyes as he pops a berry into his mouth. For a moment, he holds his breath and I watch him intently. He's shaking slightly. Is he scared of the poison, or is he scared of me?

"Dead yet?" I ask.

"Do I look dead?"

"Well, I think we can safely say that they're edible," Cray says before I have a chance to speak. "And there's a whole bush full!"

With our anxieties out of the way, we settle in the clearing and feast on the bread and berries. The berries are sweet and delicious – I can't stop eating them. Compare to the dry meals we've had so far they're wonderful. I'm in a good mood as we sit in the clearing, happy enough to listen to Connor's upper-class anecdotes. I fall into the conversation and almost forget the games. Connor can certainly make his trivial problems of the past sound interesting. Cray follows his lead, sharing stories from when we were young. Those days, captured in Cray's words, seem so far away now. I remember school, remember my friends, remember my family... I can never go back to it now. If I am to win the games then Cray has to die. Without Cray, my life wouldn't be mine.

The thought hits me and suddenly the berries don't seem so sweet. Cray's laughter is distant and the forest is hazy, as if viewed through frosted glass. Either Cray or I have to die in these games. We'll be lucky is one of us survives. I've always known it, but now is the first time that I really _feel _it. I'm going to be the one to die. I need Cray to live. It's my fault he's here. Why did he have to volunteer? This could have been my own battle. I could have won with my home still intact. But that idiot had to ruin it all, didn't he?

"Rhi?" Cray asks as the world snaps back into focus. "Rhi? Are you all right?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine."

It's then that I notice the wings. At the edge of the clearing, flitting amongst the trees, is what appears to be a large butterfly. It's not that unusual – there are plenty of strange looking animals in the arena – but I can't help but be wary of a butterfly the size of my head. I grab my penknife and lean closer to get a better look at it.

"What is it?" Connor asks.

"Over there," I whisper, nodding at the butterfly.

I can see another one now, its iridescent wings flashing not far from the first. The more I look the more of them I see, like stars in the night sky. I squint and try to bring them into focus. I gasp when I see what they are. Tiny humanoids with wings sprouting from their backs. Their bodies look as if they've been formed from clay, smooth and featureless apart from a gaping mouth. This can't be good. If something has a mouth, it can bite. There are dozens of these things. They seem to be gathering at the edge of the clearing, hovering, waiting.

"Cray," I whisper. "We're going to run. When I say, follow me."

"Why?"

"Because I think we might be attacked by fairies."

Connor's burst of laughter is quickly cut short as the first creature swoops towards us, making a horrible, hissing scream. I grab the open backpack and leap to my feet. Fumbling with the zip, I run. The fairies are all around the clearing, there are no gaps in their barricade. I hear shouts from behind me and glance back to see the first fairy has bitten into Connor's cheek and won't let go. He crushes its wings in his hands as he pulls it off of him and throws it to the ground. Already, I can see a large swollen lump appearing on his cheek.

More fairies are flying towards us. I bat one out of the air and bring my foot down on it. I feel it crunch beneath my boot. They might die quickly, but there are lots of them. We need to get out of these woods.

With the bag secure on my back, I look up through the trees. Making a rough judgement of direction from the sun, I turn and run. The sound of their feet tells me that the others are following me as I leave the clearing. The trees consume me, and suddenly the fairies are everywhere. A sharp rush of pain screams as one bites my arm. I yank it off of me only to feel another latch on to the back of my neck. I pull that one off as I run. If I stay still then the fairies will overwhelm me. My breath catches in my throat as I hear Cray yelling. I can't go back.

"Run!" I shout, slicing another fairy from the air. "Anywhere! Just run!"

I don't even risk a look back. I need to get away from these fairies. I clench my teeth as the bites throb. If I got too many of them on me, that'd be it. I focus on running, telling myself to ignore any cannons.

I crash through the undergrowth, my feet catching on tangles of roots and vines. The clearing, and the happy memories of our meal, are far behind me. I can't hear Cray or Connor. I hope that it's just my racing heartbeat and clumsy footsteps deafening me. The shrieks of the fairies fill the wood, a cacophonous symphony to play us to our deaths. Another bites. I rip it away. I get weaker with each bite. They won't leave me. They'll chase me until they've killed me.

"Cray!" I scream.

There's no answer. Tears sting my eyes. I need him to be here. I can't die alone. Not like this. An image of a corpse – my corpse – flashes through my mind. The flesh is raw and red, as lumpy as a toad. The face is twisted in agony. It's barely human. That's not how I'll go. I won't let that happen.

With a cry of effort, I force my aching limbs to run faster. The fairies still follow. I've given up on fighting them off now. I've got to run...

"Rhian!" The voice is distant but recognisable. Cray! He's alive! The shock of hearing him causes me to stumble, but I recover and sprint onwards.

I can make it... I can make it...

I burst out of the trees, into the soft grass of the field. The Cornucopia glints in the sunlight, small on the horizon. I stagger forward, only managing a few more paces before collapsing into the grass. Then they're gone. The fairies aren't biting any more. They don't fill the air with their wings and their screams. I sit up, laughing and crying with relief as I see them lurking at the edge of the forest. They're not leaving. I've done it. I'm safe.

The relief is fleeting though. Fear slams into me from all angles. There's no cover from Career eyes in the field. The bites on my arms and neck still hurt. I can't return to the forest. And – this thought hits the hardest – Cray's still in there. I sit and stare at the forest, my sweaty palm gripping the penknife tightly.

The seconds drag by, each one stabbing into me. I bite my lip. He's not here. But I haven't heard a cannon fire. That means he's still alive. Please, oh please, get out of there.

I can hardly believe it when the woods break open and spit Cray out. There are large bites on his face and arms but he's managing to run. He drags Connor behind him. The other boy is coughing and panting but seems intact.

"Cray!" I can't hide my enthusiasm as I jump up.

Cray grins as he runs towards me and we hug. He still doesn't feel quite real, although I can feel his heartbeat. He lets me go and I sit down, realising that my mind had already killed him.

"Those things..." he says, his voice trailing off.

"I think the bites are just bites," I say, scratching at one of the lumps on my arm. My clothes protected most of me from the fairies' jaws, but they got my face and arms quite badly. "They don't seem to be poisoned or anything."

"It's probably better not to scratch them anyway." Cray looks up at the fairies as they wait in the trees. "They're still there."

"We can't go back in the forest," I say. "We can't stay here. Let's head for the cliff."

Connor makes a vague groaning noise. "It's so far..."

"Tough," I snap. "You want to live, don't you?"

Connor moans again.

"Then we're going to the cliff."

* * *

**Thanks so much for all of the support over the computer problems! It really gave me the motivation to rewrite all of this :)**

** I'm going to update once a week from now on. I'm doing NaNoWriMo next month, so I won't have any spare time to get on with this fic. I'll get back to doing two chapters a week once all of that's over though.**

**I hope the chapter's okay!**


	18. Caught in the Storm

**Raquelle POV**

I feel completely useless as I sit against a tree. I tried to walk earlier but lost all feeling in my leg and collapsed. Stupid Capitol medicine. Yve's been doing as much as she can to help me and we got food from our sponsors. I don't know how much longer this numbness is going to last, but right now I'd prefer pain. If we're attacked, if we have to run, then I won't be able to escape. Yve would try to drag me along and I'd end up costing her her life as well. She couldn't fight off any attackers. Even if she could use her hatchet, she's too kind-hearted to kill.

It's mid afternoon when the rain starts to fall. I see the ripples on the surface of the pond before I feel it on my skin. I peer up at the sky to see dark clouds have suddenly formed above us. Great. A storm in the games is caused by the Gamemakers, and things that they organise are never good.

A large drop hits my leg and the fabric twists and warps beneath it. It must be acid or something. If that had hit my skin then I'd hate to have seen what happened.

"Yve!" I yell. "We need to find shelter!"

I watch another drop fall, but it's just water as it lands on my hand. Ok, not all of this rain is acid.

"What? Why?" Yve shouts back.

Looking for somewhere to hide, I glance up at the tree I rest against. No matter how much rain hits it, it stays as perfect as ever. Yve screams and I see the skin on the back oh her hand bubbling and melting like my trousers did. It's angry and red, and I feel pain by just looking at it. Yve must be in agony. She clutches at it, sobbing uncontrollably. It looks like she's put her hand into a fire.

"The pool!" I say, dragging myself further back against the tree. "Get in the pool!"

Yve's wide eyes stare at me for a moment, but she nods. Stumbling to the pool, she tumbles in, disappearing beneath the surface. The rain's falling heavily now. I shrink back into the shelter of the tree but a drop of acid manages to catch my shoulder. The thinner fabric of my top burns away into a wound and the skin beneath it reddens. I breathe in sharply as pain shoots into my shoulder. It wouldn't take much of that stuff to kill me.

Cursing my dead leg more than ever, I curl up into a ball, positioning myself so I'm protected by a thick branch. The acidic rain continues to storm into the tree. It drips off of the leaves onto the ground. It leaves the rest of the forest unharmed. No plants wither, no animals squeal. Yve's head breaks out of the water, gasping for air as she struggles to keep her glasses on. The skin on her hand has solidified now but still looks excruciating. Our eyes meet and I see the sheer terror in her face before she vanishes under the water again. I lower my head, staring at my knees to protect my face from the rain. The leather on my boot writhes as it's struck by a burning drop, but the rain doesn't cut through to my foot. Tears I don't want fall from my eyes as I pull my legs in closer to my chest. How long will this go on for? Dying stuck to the sheep would have been better than this.

* * *

**Howel POV**

I sit at the cave mouth, my hands curled into shaking fists as I watch the two figures clamber up the distant rocks. Even from this far away they're unmistakable. Uwel Maggs and Samkin Hopp, the two tributes I want to kill more than any others in this arena. They're higher up the cliff face than I am and much further away. Chasing them would be foolish, especially in this rain. I have the burn on my arm to prove what that stuff can do to you.

But it's oh so tempting. Despite the curtain of rain, I can see them. There's a nagging voice at the back of my head: _Go on, you can make it. It's not that far. You wouldn't die. It's not you that the Gamemakers want to die._

I shake the voice away.

Samkin pulls Uwel up onto a path and the two of them dart into a cave, disappearing from my sight. Good. I'd hate for the rain to kill them. That's my job. For them to die any other way would be terrible.

I draw my dagger and stroke the blade. The metal is cold and dangerous beneath my fingers. It feels like so long since I killed, since I even saw blood. Trust the Gamemakers to ruin my hunt with their traps.

"Don't go after them." Eli's voice echoes around the cave. She's hiding at the back, as far away from me as she can get.

"I wasn't planning to," I say, sheathing my dagger. "I'm not suicidal."

"...good," Eli says after a long pause.

I'm not sure what to think of Eli. From what I saw during training, her skill with a sword is unquestionable. Going off of our initial scores she should be one of the strongest Careers. But she seems to suffer from the same problem as the others – she's too human. Her friendship with Bijoque makes her weak. That's why I split them up, so they could prove to me that they are the killers they claim to be.

Stupid rain.

* * *

**Abi POV**

"Abi! Hide!"

Zozi's voice cuts through the rain and I look over to see her crouching by the roots of a huge golden tree. She's clutching her arm where the rain managed to get her. I should be more frightened than I am. This is the first real danger that I've been in since the Cornucopia, but I feel strangely calm. I stand amongst the trees and listen to the rhythm of the rain. Occasional drops make their way through the canopy and fall onto me. I've been hit lots of times now, but never by the rain that burns.

"Oh for God's sake..."

Zozi grabs my arm and pulls me into the shelter of the tree. She grits her teeth and pushes me to the ground. When she releases me I see her palm has burnt.

"What the hell?" she says, sitting beside me and staring at her hand.

Gingerly she pokes the red flesh and pulls her hand away sharply. Shaking her head, she looks between me and the burn.

"It's you," she whispers. "You're covered in the rain."

She prods my sleeve where she'd held my arm and swears when her fingertip burns.

"But it hasn't burnt me," I say.

"Well done, genius," Zozi says. "You try poking it, if you're so invincible."

Worriedly, I sigh and touch my sleeve. Pain floods through me from my finger and I yelp as my hand jerks away. I stare at my burnt finger. The throbbing pain's still there. I bite my lip to keep myself from crying.

"Well, I'm not invulnerable," I murmur, afraid to show the pain in my voice.

It's just a tiny wound compared to Zozi's hands and arm, and she hasn't burst out crying. Neither will I. I can't show my pain – I'm a Career now.

"It's not you," Zozi says after a while. "It's your top."

"What?"

"It's immune to the rain," Zozi says. "Just like the plants and animals in the arena. The only things that the rain harms are the tributes and their clothes. Somehow, clothes other than the default uniform must be acid resistant."

I manage a smile. "I told you it was practical."

* * *

**Rhian POV**

This can't be happening. Not after we've escaped from the forest. Surely we've given the Gamemakers enough entertainment for today?

There's no cover out here. We'd started towards the cliffs when the rain started, and now both the forest and the cliff are too far away. We're going to die here, burnt by rain.

Connor's crying, huddles up in a ball on the ground. The long grass does nothing to protect him from the rain. Cray's screams fill the air as his skin is warped by the rain. It twists and melts like it's trying to escape from his body. Seeing him in such pain hurts me more than my own wounds. I won't break down and cry. I won't give the Gamemakers that pleasure.

I hoick my backpack high up onto my shoulders, hoping that it'll offer me a bit more protection from the rain. It seems undamaged, though my jacket is in shreds and my tunic and trousers look like they'll go the same way.

Gritting my teeth, I run to Cray and push him over. He yells as he hits the ground. I throw myself over him, sheltering him from the rain with my own body. Excruciating pain rips through me as the acid moulds my flesh.

"Rhian, don't," Cray says, his voice weak and shaking.

"I have to," I say, and then I cry out as another drop of acid lands on me.

His wide eyes meet mine. I won't let him die.

"The Cornucopia," he whispers.

And I understand.

I jump to my feet, pulling Cray up with me and ignoring his shrieks of pain as his burnt skin moves. I'm in too much pain to feel it, or the adrenaline has stopped it from registering. I grab Cray's hand and run. The Cornucopia's not too far away, we can make it. I don't need to force myself to run, my legs know that they have to.

We're no more than fifty metres from the Cornucopia when Cray stops. Fear rushes over me for a second, then he tears his hand away from mine.

"Cray!" I yell, turning to see him sprinting back towards Connor.

And then my face is on fire. Screaming, I double over and clutch at my burning face with my hands. Around my eye, over my eyelid, I can feel the skin moving. I writhe with it, unable to control my pain any longer. There's pain all over me, but nothing as bad as on my eye. It's like every injury ever suffered has suddenly been thrown onto my face.

But I'm so close to the Cornucopia. I make myself lower my hands. Through my good eye, I see Cray making his way back to me, his arm around Connor. He's the only thing holding the other boy up.

"Rhian! Run!" he cries, his voice barely audible through the torrential rain.

Keeping my I closed, not knowing if it'll ever open again, I turn and run towards the golden Cornucopia. Now I feel all of the pain, every bite and every burn on my body willing me to stop, willing me to die.

I reach the pain is messing with my vision. Black dots swim through my mind as the darkness threatens to consume me. I barely realise when I reach the mouth of the Cornucopia. I give a choked cry of relied and look inside. It's not empty. The Careers seem to have taken all of the weapons, but there are still plenty of blankets inside the glistening horn. Packets of food lurk among them.

Then I look back, just as Connor collapses.

His skin melts into lava, each drop of acid twisting him further from recognition. His screams are like nothing I've ever heard. They tear through me, leaving me hollow. Cray stays at the mangled boy's side, calling his name, urging him onward, but he must know it's too late. The mayor's son spasms in the grass, unable to control himself. If Cray doesn't leave him then he'll end up in the same state.

I yell his name and he looks up at me. Tears stream down his face, from sorrow or fear. Why does he want to save that boy so much?

Connor's eyes snap open, focusing on mine. I've never seen a person in so much pain. I feel like he's blaming me. I left him to die. I ran with Cray.

His screams stop as a cannon fires.

Cray seems reluctant to leave the body. It still twists and melts, even though Connor is gone. I scream his name and he finally rips himself away.

He stumbles in the grass. I rush over and pull him up, my palm shooting pain through me. Compared to Cray, I'm barely injured. Our chances of survival, even with shelter, don't look good.

Keeping his hand in mine, I dive into the Cornucopia. I push through supplies, pulling Cray deeper and deeper into the horn. I glance over my shoulder and see him lying motionless amongst the blankets. I gasp, but realise that I haven't heard a cannon. He must be unconscious. Judging from the way that the world swirls around me, it won't be long until I go the same way.

Cursing under my breath, I find a blanket and tear of the straps that keep it rolled up. I manage to spread it out over Cray and me before I collapse.

There's so much pain.

* * *

**I promise I'll stop being mean to Rhian and co! For now at least…**

**Also, I wanted to know if there are any characters/alliances that you'd like to see more of. I seem to spend a lot of time focusing on the Careers, and I want to know if they're becoming boring or if you think someone else deserves more screen time.**

**I've got enough chapters to keep updating in November! If my planned NaNo novel goes horribly wrong, then I'll get more written as well :)**


	19. Back to the Battle

**Michael POV**

Cerra and I both look up at the sound of the cannon, as if we're expecting to see something. We don't of course.

"Looks like the rain did its job," Cerra says.

We're both well protected from the rain. Our clothes guarded us from it and we managed to find a good hiding place amongst the roots of a wizened tree. I accidentally poked one of the acid rain drops and got a nasty burn on my finger. Really, I'm amazed that I haven't heard more cannons in this storm. The rain looks lethal.

"Wonder who it was," I say.

Cerra shrugs. "I really don't mind."

"What if it was Howel?"

"Then good riddance!" she says, laughing. "Just 'cause he's from my district doesn't mean that I like him. Though the rest of you guys are all right."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I was preparing for the worst," she says pensively. "Like a Career pack made up of Howel clones. Y'know, like it has been in the past? I think I got quite a good year. No fights for leadership or anything. Normally the Careers are at each other's throats all of the time."

"My mentor told me to break away from the Careers," I admit. "But having a good Career group could really help me. And, like you said, I think we're quite a good one."

"We could win this," Cerra says with a grin. After a pause punctuated by the barrage of rain, she says "What'll we do if it's just us? If we manage to kill everyone else and it's only us Careers left. What happens then?"

"That's when we fight," I say. "We all want to win, and the only way for that to happen is if we kill each other."

"That'll be difficult."

I nod. "Maybe that's why he told me not to get into the pack. So that I could kill you easier."

"Well, let's hope we don't have to."

It's something I've been trying not to think about. It's going to be hard enough to kill the other tributes, but the other Careers? These people who I've been living with, who I know well, who I can count as friends? I'm not sure if I'll be able to do it. Especially not Eli. The thought of killing her sickens me. I wish that the Career group _did_ consist of Howel clones. That way I'd find the task of killing my allies slightly easier.

"It's a strange feeling, isn't it?" Cerra says. "Knowing that in a week or so, one or both of us will be dead."

"I thought I'd be able to deal with it," I reply. "After all, I've been training for this my entire life. But still..."

"There's so much I want to do, so much I want to achieve. I could make a list twenty pages long," Cerra says, a small smile on her lips. "And believe me, I will fight to be able to go home and live my life."

"We all will."

Cerra's blue-eyed gaze flickers over me.

"Y'know, we could get one thing off of our lists. What with me being a girl and you being a guy."

She smiles and leans towards me. I back away from her and she stops, puzzled.

"You can't honestly..."

"Um, well, yes, I can," I say, stumbling over the words. Suddenly our little bit of shelter feels very claustrophobic.

"You're not... y'know..." she says with a giggle. "Are you?"

"What? No! It's just..." I look away from her, trying to ignore how close she is to me. "Look, I hardly know you."

"So?"

"We're on national television."

"Why should that matter? It's your last chance, Bijoque."

I know that argument has worked in the past. There was a Hunger Games a few years ago when two of the tributes just jumped on each other. The footage cut away very quickly as the commentators giggled about it. There had been nothing at all romantic about it. They were just kids, two desperate kids who knew that they were going to die. They didn't know each other, they just gave in to their animal instincts. They were both dead within a few days.

I won't let myself fall like they did. Unlike them, I know that I can get home. This isn't my last chance.

"No," I say firmly. "That's not who I am."

Cerra shrugs. "Oh well, it was worth a shot. Your loss."

"I'm sure it is."

Further apart than we were before, we lean back against the tree and watch the rain fall.

**

* * *

**

Luck POV

I might have newfound confidence, but that doesn't suddenly make me an idiot. I know a Gamemaker trick when I see one. We were on schedule for some kind of arena-wide disaster, so as soon as I saw the first drops of rain hit the ground I ran for whatever cover I could find. I remembered seeing a tree with a hollow trunk and I managed to find it again. Which is how I ended up here, sitting in the heart of a tree, surrounded by the damp, earthy smell of the forest. I can see the forest floor through the gap in the bark that I crawled through. As the rain thunders down harder and harder, it changes from earth to mud.

I have no idea what that rain does, but it must be bad. A cannon fired just now. As always, I assume that it's Abi. I'll stay awake as long as I have to in order to see the faces in the sky, to see if this is the time that I'm right. I don't know what I'll do if I see her tonight. The thought that she could win these games is what's keeping me alive right now. My mind has killed her in so many different ways. When I sleep, I watch her die, unable to do anything. It's always like I'm trapped, unable to help her, unable to scream. I've seen every tribute kill her and I've seen her die at the hands of a thousand different mutts. Every time, I wake up cursing myself for being so useless.

I wonder if she ever thinks about me. Not the same way I think of her of course, I'd just like to know if the thought of me ever pops into her mind every once in a while. Maybe she's looking for me right now. Of course she's not. She's got better things to do with her time, like staying alive herself.

I hug my knees to my chest. I wonder how much longer this rain will continue.

* * *

_**Day 5**_

**Uwel POV**

I can't help but be reminded of the first day I woke up in the games when I flicker into consciousness. There's a burn down the back of my leg that hurts like mad. The rain didn't hit my skin directly; I was scolded when it burnt through my trousers. Still painful though.

As always, Samkin is awake before me, sharpening his daggers by a little fire. I've never seen him sleeping – I wonder if he sleeps at all.

"Morning," I say, sitting up.

He acknowledges me with a nod. "How are your injuries?"

"Not bad," I lie.

Samkin's arm has almost completely healed now. We got some medicine from our sponsors that seemed to speed up the healing process dramatically. I think we deserved it to, after fighting Robo-Hero. Just some of that Capitol medicine would make life in the districts so much easier. I hope that I'll get some for my burn, but I doubt it. The prices will have started to rise now, so the sponsor gifts will quickly become few and far between. I think we'll be okay though. We've managed to stockpile a decent amount of food, enough to keep us going for a while. We just need to stop getting injured.

"We got a sponsor gift earlier," Samkin says, as if he could read my mind.

"Really? What was it?" I ask eagerly.

"Not burn medicine, if that's what you're after," he replies. "We got some new knives, which brings our total up to eight."

"I'm fine with just one," I say, disappointed. "Why would they send us knives?"

"Because we're running out?" Samkin says.

"Yes, but do they expect us to go out after other tributes or something?" I ask.

"Even if they do, that doesn't mean that we will," Samkin says. "We're not suddenly become Careers just because we've got weapons. Anyway, I don't think that that was their intention."

"So what was?" I ask as I pick up an apple for breakfast. I can tell he knows more.

"I imagine that it's because we're in danger," Samkin says, matter-of-factly.

"Explain," I say.

"Yesterday, during the storm, I saw Howel. He was watching us during the whole thing. From what I know about him, I wouldn't be surprised if he's developed a personal vendetta against us both."

"So he'll be after us," I say. "Won't we be able to just keep on changing caves and hiding, like we've been doing so far?"

"I hope so," Samkin says. "But chances are that sooner or later he's going to find us. When that happens, we'll have to fight."

I nod, suddenly not hungry any more.

The thought of Howel terrifies me. I can't think of him without remembering that horrible, sadistic smile he wore while attacking me. That guy is insane, and Samkin's right – of course he'll have a grudge against me – I escaped from him. I bet he's been planning different ways for me to die every single day.

But still, part of me – just a tiny part – wants him to find me. That part of me wants to fight. That part of me wants to kill Howel. To feel what he felt when he killed Hero, to see the life fade from his eyes. I never thought that I'd want to see someone dead. It's more than that even, I want to kill him. If someone else gets to him first then I'll feel cheated. Maybe if it was Samkin that'd be okay, I'd still get to see Howel die that way.

I take a bite of my apple. I won't think these thoughts. I'm no better than Howel if I sink that low. I am not him.

* * *

**Howel POV**

I storm into the castle, Eli following a few steps behind me. I can't believe that the Gamemakers kept that rain up for as long as they did. It continued into the night and was still going when I finally fell asleep. We wasted an entire day.

Michael rushes down the stairs, spear in hand. When he sees that it's us, he puts the weapon away and runs to Eli. They talk, in the same annoying way that they always do, glancing at me nervously every now and again. Cerra appears at the top of the stairs, brushing knots out of her hair.

"How was the hunt?" she asks.

"How do you think?" I snap.

"Well, you could have been the one that killed that boy," she says. "You never know."

"He was killed by the rain," I say and I remember my own injuries. "Do we have anything to put on these burns?"

"I found some medicine," Michael says. "I'll go and get it."

He hurries off down the corridor. I look between Cerra and Eli before following him. He's the lesser of three evils when it comes to conversation.

I find him searching in a cupboard full of various medicinal supplies. It's in a room that the others seem to have dubbed 'the hospital'. It's not much of a hospital, but – like everywhere in the castle – it's well stocked. I've spent quite a lot of time in here myself, experimenting with various poisons.

"Found it," Michael says, pulling a small round jar out of the back of the depths of the cupboard.

He throws it to me. He's lucky that I've got fast reflexes or it would have smashed against the tiled floor. It seems that by now he knows me well enough to not expect thanks. I apply some of the cream to the burn on my arm and instantly feel the cooling effects. Michael yawns and leans back against the wall.

"I'm guessing that being on the cliffs didn't help you much?" he says.

"On the contrary," I reply, resealing the jar. "Thanks to our eventful little trip, I have discovered the location of one of our most important competitors."

"And you're going to tell me who this is?"

"Of course. Samkin Hopp."

Michael grins. "Oh – that kid who knocked you out?"

"He did not knock me out," I snap, throwing the jar back to him.

Turns out he's got pretty good reflexes as well.

"Only dazed me a little," I add.

Michael smiles and returns the medicine to its place in the cupboard. As we head out of the hospital together, the sound of a distant voice reaches us.

"Sponsors! Sponsors!"

I turn the corner to see Abigayl Dowl running into the castle, waving a silver package excitedly. I roll my eyes. Couldn't the rain have at least maimed her? She seems just as bouncy and happy as ever.

"Give me that." I snatch the parcel out of her hand, winning a harsh glare from Zozi as she follows her sister into the castle.

I tear the paper off of the gift with the others all watching me intently. Inside are three black rectangles, each with a single button on them. What on Earth are they?

"Ooo," Abigayl says, leaning closer. "I know what those are!" She picks one up without asking. "They're walky-talkies! Or some kind of advanced version of them. They used to make them back in District Three." She turns it over in her hands. "These are really good quality, they were pretty expensive back in the district."

"So why did they send us some?" Eli asks.

Abigayl presses the button and holds the device to her mouth. "Testing."

The voice comes out of the other two as clearly as it left her lips. I'm impressed. The walky-talkies I remember from childhood were horrible, brick-like objects that seldom worked. If they ever did decide to work, then there would be so much static that it was impossible to hear the message.

"If you can't see how that will be useful then you're stupider than I thought," I say, taking the walky-talky back off of Abigayl. "This will help us coordinate out hunts, it'll make us into a more effective pack." I pause, looking over their baffled faces. Honestly. It's not a difficult concept to understand. "We'll hunt again tonight."

Michael swears loudly and the others glare at me.

"We're all exhausted!" Eli protests. "None of us can handle another hunt!"

"None of you did anything yesterday," I say. "You just hid from the rain."

"Yeah, 'cause we didn't want to die!" Cerra says.

"That doesn't change anything," I say, forcing down my rising anger. "We have to kill. We _need _to kill. We're Careers. We're not meant to be floating around some castle all day, we're meant to be winning the games. Have you all forgotten that?" I focus my glare on Abigayl and notice that she's shaking slightly. "Just remember that you could all turn into a victim in the blink of an eye."

Silence settles on the room like a shroud over a corpse. I scan over the others, waiting for a response. They can't argue. They know who's in charge.

"I'm in," Abigayl says weakly. "I'll hunt tonight."

"So am I," Zozi says instantly.

"Good, you're coming with me," I say. I need to split those two up. If Abigayl wants to be treated as a Career she'll have to prove to me that she is one. She's not going to get the chance with her sister watching over her like an over-protective mother. "We're taking the cliff. There's prey there that I need to catch."

"Is this still about Samkin?" Eli asks.

"He needs to die," I reply. "You can go with Michael again. Cerra, you're with Abigayl."

Eli grins and high-fives Michael. Cerra rolls her eyes.

"Now that's all sorted, go and get some rest. It'll be your only chance for a while."

**

* * *

**

Sorry for the late update. I've been really busy with school recently.

**Some good news though – I tried to start NaNoWriMo with a new story, but I just kept thinking about this one. So I'm going to finish this as my NaNo. I know it's technically against the rules, but oh well. I do NaNo to have fun, and this is fun to me.**

**So, who do you want to win at the moment? I'll create a poll at some point, once a few more characters have died.**


	20. Scar

**Raquelle POV**

Another day, another day that I didn't think I'd wake to. I was completely helpless yesterday, curled up against the acid rain, unable to walk even if I wanted to. It's a miracle I survived. Yve's still here too, lying by the pool.

I stretch out my legs and wince as I feel a sharp stab of pain. Then I smile. The numbness is gone. The pain is back, but that just means my leg's getting better.

I test my theory. I stumble into standing, using a tree for support as I lean most of my weight onto my good leg. I try to shift my weight onto the injured leg and am rewarded with pain and weakness. I lean away again. Looks like I still won't be walking for a while, but standing's better than nothing. If Yve supports me then I might be able to take a few steps.

With a groan, Yve wakes up. She cries out as she leans onto her injured hand. The burnt skin is still as red as it was yesterday. Blinking and groping around for her glasses, she looks over at me.

"Mornin'," she says, smiling weakly. "You can walk?"

"Not quite," I slump back down to the foot of the tree where I have spent so much of my time in the games.

"You'll get better soon, that Capitol medicine is amazing." Cautiously, she pokes her hand, wincing as her finger brushes against the wound. "I could do with some right now, really."

I laugh. "I don't think you can just ask for sponsor gifts!"

Barely ten seconds after I spoke, a parachute hits Yve on the head. She grins at me.

"Can you open it?" she asks. "I don't think I can do it with my poorly hand."

"Fine," I say, crawling over and grabbing the parachute.

I tear the paper off, revealing a small pot of ointment and a thermos flask of hot soup. Yve cheers and I smile; we were almost out of our Cornucopia food.

"Clearly someone wants us alive!" Yve says.

I wonder why. We can't have been that impressive so far. All I've done is lost a fight to a mutt and Yve rescued me. If I want more sponsor gifts then I'm going to have to do something really incredible. An idea nags at the back of my mind but I push it to one side. For now, I just need to be happy I've got breakfast.

I carefully apply the ointment to Yve's hand and the effect is instant. Yve sighs as the raised skin sinks and the red fades to the pink of scar tissue. It doesn't look like the ointment will get rid of the burn completely, but it's done enough.

"That's brilliant," Yve says, flexing her fingers. "I really can't feel it anymore!"

"You'll have that scar for a while," I say, pouring some of the soup into two of our cups from the Cornucopia.

"Makes me look dark and cool," Yve says with a shrug.

"I wonder how much ointment has been sent out today," I say.

We only needed a tiny pot, just enough for Yve's burn. Other tributes might need a lot more, and they might not have got it. I wonder how everyone else is doing. Yve was the only one that I got to know at the training centre, so I can't say I'm worried about any of them. I just want to know who to look out for.

"Some people weren't so lucky," Yve takes a sip of her soup.

"Hmm?"

"Oh yeah, you were asleep when the anthem happened yesterday," Yve says.

"Anthem? Oh, the death recap."

"Yeah, that thing. It was the boy from your district, the mayor's son. I think he was killed by the rain."

My hand pauses before my soup reaches my lips. I'd completely forgotten about Connor. He's dead. That's... that's strange. I knew him, I saw him every day at school. I can't say he was my friend, but I didn't dislike him. He was just a bit stuck up, that's all. And now... now he's dead. He died in a horrible way. I picture him covered in burns like Yve's. The grotesque image in my mind can't be far from the reality.

"Raquelle?" You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so..."

"It's all right to be upset y'know."

"I'm not upset," I say quietly, placing my soup on the floor. "I just feel... I don't know. It's weird."

"You knew him, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Then it's perfectly normal to be a bit miffed. It means you're human."

"I guess." I pause, staring at the floor. "You didn't seem sad when Joard died."

"I didn't know him," Yve says. "He was younger than me, and the years at school didn't mingle much. I vaguely recognised him, but that's it. Connor – you actually knew him, that's different. And so many people died on day one, Joard's death barely registered. I was really overwhelmed by it all."

I nod. "It's strange to think that someone could be dying right now, not far from us."

"Give me the creeps," Yve says. "I prefer not to think about it."

"It must be horrible if you're alone," I say softly. Yve smiles and I say "Thanks for allying with me. It... it really means a lot. Not just 'cause you saved my life and all that. It's just..."

"Thanks," she says, her already huge smile stretching even further. "You're not too bad yourself."

I smile. I guess it's these brief moments of happiness that keep tributes sane.

* * *

**Rhian POV**

The world is made of pain. My blood is agony, my tears burn like the rain. As soon as I wake, I want unconsciousness to consume me again. My world is on fire, searing into my skull. I made the mistake of opening an eye. I haven't lost my sight, but the movement of the burnt skin makes my face erupt into pain.

I lie amongst blankets, some warm and soft, some practical and waterproof. One covers me, the one I pulled over myself and Cray yesterday. Cray. Fighting through the pain, I pull the blanket aside and find my brother's body in the Cornucopia. I feel ill just looking at him. Although the rain managed to avoid his face, his body is covered with raw red burns, his skin twisted. His jacket has almost completely dissolved and his tunic isn't much better off. Compared to him, I'm fine. I feel for a pulse at his neck. I'm relieved when I can feel the steady beat of one. I passed out straight away yesterday, so I would have missed it if a cannon. They couldn't have taken him away if he died in the Corncopia. I could have been sharing a bed with the corpse of my brother. The thought sends shivers down my spine.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the golden wall of the Cornucopia. Covering my eye, stretching from my ear to my nose, is an angry red burn. The girl in the reflection doesn't look like me. Her eyes are cold, the line of her mouth stern. Her tangled blonde hair is a lion's mane, her burn the trophy of a warrior. If I want to survive, if I want Cray to survive, then that's the girl I'm going to have to become.

Blinking, I crawl out of the mouth of the Cornucopia, each tiny movement causing agony. Even if they don't kill us, then these burns will render us useless, making us easy targets for any attackers.

I can hardly believe it when I see it. At first I think it's just an illusion created by the light glinting off of the Cornucopia. A silver package lies in the grass, shining beneath the midday sun.

I grab it despite the pain. I tear off the paper and the burns on my palms scream. But when I see the sponsor gift elation washes over me, calming the pain. A large tub of burn ointment, ready to soothe my wounds.

It hurts as I unscrew the lid, but I know that the pain will be over soon. I dip my fingers into the salve and suddenly the fire that burns them is extinguished. I didn't expect the cure to happen that fast or to be so effective. I rub the balm into my hands, crying tears of relief as the pain disappears.

"Thank you, thank you so much," I whisper.

The sponsors are the ones that encourage the games. They're the ones that want us to die. But now my executioners are also my saviours. It's a debt that I'll never be able to repay. In any other situation, that would make me angry, but right now I'm just eternally grateful. After everything, they consider my life worth saving.

Some of the burns on my arms and legs disappear completely at the touch of the ointment, some of them fade to scars. The burn on my face will never leave me – a dark pink scar now covers my eye. But at least it doesn't hurt anymore. I blink, testing the cure. The action would have been torturous moments ago, but now I don't feel anything.

With my own injuries doused, I head back into the Cornucopia. The world seems silent without pain roaring in my ears and blinding my eyes. I find Cray and gently pull him further towards the mouth of the Cornucopia so I can get at his injuries. I have to be careful; he's not far from death's door.

I rub the salve into his wounds, my scarred fingers massaging his skin. No matter how many burns I heal, I always find more. The amount of ointment left is shrinking rapidly. By the time I've used it all up, I was using the bare minimum to cover the burns. I can't be sure if I got them all, but I've done all I can. If the balm is as powerful as it was on me, then Cray will pull through. He has to.

I sit by him, staring out of the Cornucopia at the forest. Is it safe to go back there yet? Will the fairies still be waiting for us? I don't know. The forest is much closer to the Cornucopia than the cliff is. We can always walk further along until we find a bit which isn't fairy infested. They can't be in the whole forest. All I know is that we can't stay in the Cornucopia for much longer.

"I didn't save him."

I jump at the words. Cray smiles faintly as I look down at him.

"Connor died," he says, the smile fading. "I could have saved him."

"No you couldn't," I say. "He just wasn't fast enough."

Cray shakes his head. "I killed him."

"You didn't."

"I..."

"Who was he?" I ask. "Who was he, really? He was nothing to us. He was an ally, that's all. He was going to die, and sooner was better than later."

"He was Connor," Cray says calmly. "He was our friend. Allies protect each other."

"He was nothing!" I insist, trying to hold down the irritation building inside of me. Cray's managed to ruin his triumphant recovery. "It's just us, Cray, that's what it's always been. Connor was just there. He wasn't one of us. He wasn't important."

"Listen to yourself, Rhian," Cray says, sitting up and rubbing his head, seemingly surprised by the lack of pain. "Connor was a person, just like you or me. He had a life, friends, family..."

"He wasn't one of us! It's us against everyone else, Cray, and everyone else has to die!"

"What then? Only one of us can win."

"We'll deal with that when we have to," I say, ignoring the question that's been plaguing my mind. "That wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't volunteered!"

Cray says nothing for a moment as my words echo around the Cornucopia.

"And then you'd have killed Connor yourself," he says eventually. "Rhian, I volunteered to keep you you. I know that I can't protect you, but I'm not entirely useless either."

"I don't..."

"You're already treating death like a minor inconvenience. Imagine what it would be like if I wasn't here. You'd be as bad as a Career."

"That's what I need to do to get home. And I could have come home to you and it could have been normal again. But now that'll never happen!"

"Kill me then," Cray says. "Kill me now. I'll be out of the way then and you'll be able to go on your little killing spree."

"You think I could kill you? You're the one that's going to win, Cray! I'm going to die here, do you understand that?" I wait for a response. "Do you understand?"

Cray sighs, then looks at me with serious eyes. "Maybe we should split up, Rhian. Then it'll be the one of us that deserves to win that does."

"But I need to protect you..."

"I don't want that. I volunteered for you, not for me."

Tears bite at my eyes but I force them back.

"We're not going to split. I'm not going to kill you. We're not going to die," I say as the tears threaten to choke me. "You got that?"

I wait in the silence for what seems like forever before Cray smiles at me.

"I just want you to know that it's always an option. If you don't want me here, then just say so."

I throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. He winces. Apparently I hadn't managed to find all of his burns.

"I'll never want that," I say. "Never."

* * *

**Thanks for all of the reviews on the last few chapters! They're all really appreciated :)**

**The next chapter will have action in it! From now on, there will be very few purely filler chapters.**


	21. What We Are

**Abi POV**

Cerra shakes me awake and the world gradually comes into focus. I fell asleep pretty quickly after Howel's announcement and I still feel that I haven't slept enough. It takes me a moment to remember why it's Cerra, not Zozi, waking me.

"Come on," she says. "Everyone else has gone. Do you need to get changed, or are you fine in that?"

I look down at my clothes. I didn't change out of the purple tops I wore yesterday. Cerra's in a black top with immensely impractical flared sleeves. I'm about to ask her why she chose it when I see the flash of a dagger strapped to her forearm. I can remember her testing a device that helped her draw her knives quicker.

"I think I'm all right."

"Good."

She snatches my daggers from the bedside table and holds them out to me hilt first. I'm pleased with my final choice in weapon. The blades are long, brushing the line between dagger and sword, and gently sweep into a graceful arc. The pommel is a purple gem. Purple seems to have become my colour for the games. That's good, I guess. Previous coverage of the games has always liked to link tributes to a recurring image or theme. It makes them easier to remember.

"Hurry up," Cerra says as I slip my feet into my boots and check that they're secure.

She checks her hair in my mirror and I manage to quickly comb my fingers through my hair before we leave the castle. Dusk has fallen onto the arena and there's a chill breeze in the air. The castle stands at the top of a slight hill, equidistant between the cliffs and the forest. I can't see anyone in the large meadow in front of us.

"We're in the forest, aren't we?" I ask.

"Yep." Cerra hands me a torch. "Take this, it got dark quickly last time."

I put the torch into my backpack. It's not dark enough to bother turning it on yet and I don't want to waste the batteries. Cerra sets off towards the forest at a fast pace and I hurry to catch up with her.

"Okay," she says when I reach her side. "Just one basic rule on how this is going to go: leave it to me. Your training's going well, but I've trained for years and there are some good tributes out there this time. Let me do any fighting. You hide, or run if you have to."

"Sounds good to me," I say, "Although I'd prefer it if there was no fighting at all..."

"Of course you would," Cerra says. "But tough luck, you're in the games now and you don't stand a chance of getting out without getting your hands dirty. Sorry to break it to you."

"I know, I'm not an idiot," I say. "I just would have preferred it if I hadn't been reaped."

"Don't we all?"

"You're a Career."

"I didn't volunteer," Cerra says. "I wasn't going to. I just thought 'what the heck' and decided to give it a go. Kind of wish I hadn't now. The guys back at home have no idea what it's actually like in the arena. It's fine in training and when you're watching it on TV – it's like a video game, that's all. But now I'm actually here, it's like they're all suddenly real people. Like you, and Michael, and everyone else! The guys are probably all finding it hilarious that I'm being all soppy like this. But I think it's only people like Howel who can survive the games without getting at all messed up, and that's 'cause his brains twisted more than enough already." She glances at me. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I'll shut up now."

"No, it's interesting," I say. "I've never really thought about what life must be like in Career districts. In fact, I've never really thought of Careers as people, if you see what I mean. In lots of games it's very much 'Tributes versus Careers', like they're just another Capitol mutt. No offense."

"None taken. It's like how we try not to think of tributes as people. I understand why you'd do it. By vilifying certain tributes, you won't feel so bad when the 'good guys' kill them. But we're just pieces in the Capitol's game as well. Most of us have lives outside of training, and goals in life other than inflicting pain and winning the games. Like me. I want to be a fashion designer if I make it back to One. It's my real passion; I've never really been that into training. I do it 'cause I'm good at it and it's social and good exercise. It's not like I ever really expected to go into the games."

"Why didn't someone volunteer for you?" I ask.

"Doesn't work like that," Cerra replies. "It's all complicated, the volunteering system. I know that in Four the trainers pick the tributes who should volunteer so it's all dealt with smoothly without confusion. It's not the same in One, because there are just so many Careers! Basically, if you're a Career over sixteen and you're reaped then you're going into the games. The others aren't allowed to volunteer. For non-careers and Careers under sixteen, it all goes crazy. It's just a race to see who can get to the stage first. Which is how Howel got in. He's not a Career y'know. Well, he never went to Career training. He must have trained himself to end up like he is."

"Howel's not a Career? But he's... um... the most Careery out of all of you!"

"He's just your average psycho," Cerra says with a laugh. "You'd never have thought it. The times I've seen him back in the district he's really quiet."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've only ever seen him in the library, and never without a book in his hands. He seems really withdrawn."

"That's... odd," I say. I spend a lot of time at the library myself, it's strange to think that the other kids that go there could be like Howel.

"I guess." Cerra shrugs. "But maybe you can never really tell what a person's like until they're made to fight for their life. Now hurry up, we've got a hunt to do."

She quickens her pace as we enter the dark boundaries of the forest.

* * *

**Michael POV**

There's no need for a torch in the forest. Since the last hunt, these strange glowing spheres have popped up. They float amongst the trees as if they've got a mind of their own. At first I thought that they were mutts, but on closer inspection they turned out to just be balls of gas. I wonder why the Gamemakers have introduced them. Maybe it was too difficult to watch action at night. I don't know, but they do look nice, and they leave our hands free of torches so we can get at weapons quicker.

"So, do you still think you can win?" Eli asks as we drift slowly through the woods. We're not sure where to go, except we know that we need to find a water source. Find a water source, find tributes – it's one of those basic things that they hammer into your head at the training centre.

"I think so," I say. "I wouldn't have volunteered if I wasn't confident. What about you?"

"I'm fairly confident," she says. "I did get the highest score on training."

"Joint highest," I correct her and she sticks her tongue out at me.

"That's still good enough," she says. "And I think I suit the arena quite well."

"It's a varied arena," I say. "Different areas will suit different people."

She shrugs. "Anyway, who do you want to get today?"

"What, specific tributes? Any of them, I guess," I say.

"I'd quite like Samkin or Uwel," Eli says. "Howel wouldn't shut up about them yesterday. It'd be quite nice to steal them from him."

"Weren't they on the cliff?" I ask.

"Yeah, but they could have moved. They do have legs after all."

I'm quite surprised at just how casually Eli's talking about murder. I'd always assumed that she'd be like me, slightly more reluctant than your standard Career. I didn't expect her to smile while talking about who she wants to kill. I've never really spoken to her about it before though. We've spent most of the past few days playing cards.

"There must be one you want," Eli says. "Raquelle seemed pretty good."

"Yeah, but I don't want to kill her," I say.

"What?"

"I don't want to..." I say, cutting myself off when I notice the quizzical expression on Eli's face. "I want to get Luck," I say quickly.

"Really? He's not going to look that impressive on a kill list."

"Yeah, but think of all of the one-liners!" I say with a grin. I'm not lying. There's part of my brain that has been thinking of cool things to say ever since I saw the reapings.

"Really?" Eli says with a laugh.

"Yeah! Think of how cool it'll be to say something like 'Feeling lucky?' or 'Looks like your luck's run out" before you kill him. It'd be one of those clips that they're bound to play over and over again on recaps."

"The fact that you've put thought into this is hilarious," Eli says. "But slightly awesome as well. How about just 'bad luck' then kill him?"

"That's a bit dull, isn't it?" I say, happy to be laughing and joking again.

"It's the best I could do in the time I had!" Eli says. "I'm sure that there's something to do with Lady Luck that'd work."

"I'll have to give that one a ponder," I say.

"Have you got any for any of the other tributes?" Eli asks.

"Not yet, none of them have such pun-able names," I say with mock sadness. "Anything you have on that front would be very useful."

"I'll let you know if I think of any," she says.

It's strange to think that this carefree, happy girl was talking about murder so easily. It's strange to think how easily I was talking about murder back on the train. Like all Careers, I was full of adrenaline, ready to go into the arena and come out a blood-stained hero.

I think it was at the bloodbath that it first hit me. The truth about what I have to do to win. It was when my spear was plunged into Joard's stomach, when his blood dyed the silver blade red. I'd been all hyped up about it before that, I was even smiling as I stabbed him. But then I saw his face. The sheer anguish, the horrified pain is his eyes that slowly faded to the hollow, glazed look of lifelessness. And then I realised exactly what I'd done, what I was so close to becoming. I can't do it again. I can't.

Eli killed two people at the bloodbath. I know she killed them at close range, she must have seen them fade as well. For her to not care about killing, even after that, is very strange. For the first time since the games began, I find myself worrying that my friend might be hiding who she really is behind a smile.

"Eli?"

"Hmm?"

"At the end," I say, suddenly shaking as I try to speak. I clear my throat. "At the end, if it's just you and me left, then what'll we do?"

"What do you think we'll do?" She raises an eyebrow.

"I think... I _hope_ that we won't fight," I say.

"What, and wait for the arena to pick one of us off?" Eli says with a slight laugh. "Sorry Michael, you're a good friend and all, but I'm not holding back in the final battle, even if it's you that I'm fighting. The audience wants a good show, they don't want to see you killed by a snake or something poisonous that you were stupid enough to eat."

"Right," I say, speeding up as we walk through the forest. "Ok. That's completely normal."

It is, for Careers. I'm not sure I want to be a Career any more, not if it means turning on your friends. But I want to win. I know that I'm going to have to kill again. I just hope that it's not Eli who I have to face. I'm not sure I could deal with that. Just because she thinks like the Career that she's meant to be doesn't mean that she's not my friend.

"So, anyway," Eli says, running to catch up with me, "I'm sure that there must be some pun that you could make out of Howel's name. How about..."

"Shush," I say. "You'll give away our presence."

"What? You weren't bothered about that a moment ago."

"I think we're nearing a river," I say, although I can't hear any water.

I adjust my grip on my spear. If she wants to start acting like a proper Career then so will I.

* * *

**Elsia POV**

The night isn't for sleep any more. It's the time when I have to be the most alert. It's the time when the Careers hunt. I can't even consider sleeping without memories of that terrible night reappearing in my mind as vivid as reality. I can't close my eyes without seeing the brief glimpse I caught of the dead girl's face. Her screams resound in my mind like a recording, clear and blood-curdling. If I let the Careers get to me, then those screams will be coming from my lips. I can't imagine a worse way to go.

So I wander through the woods with the vague idea of getting away from the castle. At least I can see now, thanks to the ghostlights. I wonder if they were put here for my benefit, these wisps that dance through the trees. But they'll work for the Careers as well. There won't be darkness to hide in now, with that eerie blue light illuminating the silver trees.

They're calming though. I don't know what it is about them, but they make the whole place feel tranquil. They soothe my mind, temporarily wiping away the thoughts of the Careers. I close my eyes and breathe in the sweet, fragrant scent of the forest. It's a nice smell, almost cinnamon in some places, floral in others. The arena is wonderful. I'm sure it'll be a hugely popular tourist attraction once the games are over.

It's strange to think that this whole place is fake, that I'm being watched every second I spend in here. After a while, you almost forget that you're on this twisted game show. It becomes real. And it is, this fight for your life. It's the little things – the sponsor gifts, the mutts, that bring you out of it and make you remember that there's an audience out there. I wonder what they're saying on the commentary. I wonder what they've been doing on the extra shows that support the main coverage. I wonder how much of me they've shown. Not a lot, probably, other than the Career chase of course. They're probably hoping for something like that again tonight, night coverage is always boring without Careers, and is normally just summed up at the start of the next day's program.

I might be on television right now. I doubt many tributes are awake, other than the Careers of course. Self-consciously I tuck some flyaway strands of hair behind my ear. In my mind, I look like a princess in these fairytale woods, but I know that that's far from the reality. Maybe my parents are awake, watching me. The night is the only time that they have free, after all. I can imagine Mum doing that, dosing everyone else with strong coffee to keep them up, just in case something happens to me. I can imagine my siblings sitting on the threadbare sofa, peeking at the television over the top of cushions, ready to hide at the first sign of violence. They'll be watching in school as well. That's always awkward when it's someone in your class in the games. I remember watching our tribute die last year. I passed out right there in the classroom. They probably all gave up on me when I was reaped. I could surprise them all though. Who knows? I might win this! Imagine the looks on their faces when I walk into school dressed like some Capitol beauty queen. My family would be safe from the whip of the sun's rays in the fields. I'd be out of the arena. I'd be able to sleep at night rather than running from Careers.

It's just a dream. I know that the chances of it happening are tiny, but that's what dreams are. The Capitol can take my freedom, they can take my childhood, they can take my life, but they can't take my dreams.

Then I see her, drifting through the forest like the wisps. At first I hide, but then I realise that I recognise her. It's a face I never thought I'd see again – Abigayl Dowl, my lost ally.

"Abi?" I whisper, to myself more than her.

She's too neat; she doesn't look like she's been living in the woods. Her shimmering top reflects the pale blue light like she's part of the forest. Maybe she is. Maybe she's just a Gamemaker's trick.

I lean closer to get a better look. It's definitely Abi.

"Abi?" I say again, louder this time.

I've got her attention. Slowly she turns to look at me, then her eyes widen.

"Elsia? Elsia – run!"

And then there's a dagger between my eyes. There's no fade out, I just die.

* * *

**Apologies to Elsia's small yet dedicated fan club. Please don't kill me!**

**In other news, I'm putting a poll on my profile so you can vote for who you want to win. It'll only take a minute and, who knows, your vote could affect who wins!**


	22. Human

**Abi POV**

The cannon fires.

"Elsia!" I run out to where her body lies under the light of the wisps.

Blood trickles out of her forehead over her lifeless eyes. I gasp and my hand covers my mouth. I can't look away, although I desperately want to. The shock and fear turns my limbs into jelly and I collapse onto the ground, feeling strangely hollow. My breaths are short and sharp and my sobs tremble as much as my weak legs. I can't stop it, the tears just spill from my eyes like the blood from Elsia's wound.

I barely knew her, but she was meant to be my ally. I was meant to be with her, not the Careers. She is who I was meant to be in these games. Now she's dead, and it's my fault. If she hadn't seen me then she wouldn't have come out of hiding. I'm the one responsible for her death, even if I didn't kill her. I look away from the body and my tears fall into the dirt.

"That's how it's done," Cerra says, flicking her hair as she strides out of her hiding place. "Just one simple blow. You don't need to be like Howel, you don't need to draw it out. The quicker the better, in my opinion."

There's no emotion in her voice. How can she feel nothing at all? She threw that dagger. She killed Elsia.

"You all right?" she asks, kneeling by my side.

I can't look at her. I knew she was a murderer, but to actually see it happen... one moment Elsia was there, then next moment she was gone. Cerra's right, a quick death was better than a slow death. Still...

I breathe in deeply, trying to calm my shallow breaths. I'm going to pass out if I carry on like this. For a brief moment, my tears stop. With a shiver they start again. I might not have known Elsia well, but I knew her enough. It could have been anyone lying dead in front of me and I'd still be crying like this. It was so sudden, so brutal.

Cerra attempts to place a comforting hand on my arm but I recoil away from her. She killed her. How can she pretend to have sympathy for me when she felt nothing for Elsia? I can't see the truth. To me, it's not the Capitol that kills the tributes. She does. She's nothing but a killer.

With a sigh, she stands up. I can hear a muffled voice coming from inside of her backpack. The walky-talky. I'd almost forgotten about it.

"Who was that?" Howel's voice said.

I force myself to stop crying. If Howel hears me then he'll know that he's right about me – that I'm weak. If he'd been here instead of Cerra then he'd have killed me on the spot.

"That was Abi," Cerra says, pressing in the button on the walky-talky.

"Abi? She's dead?" Howel sound almost enthusiastic. A few more choked sobs come from me.

"No, she killed," Cerra says.

"What? Really?"

Cerra glances at me. Why is she lying? What on Earth would make her say that?

"Yep," she says, eyes on me as she talks to Howel. "With a bit of help from me, but she did it."

"Let me talk to her," Howel snaps.

Cerra throws the device to me. I don't even attempt to catch it. It skids across the ground, landing at Elsia's feet. Hands shaking, I pick it up.

"Hello?" I say into it, hoping my voice sounds stronger than I feel.

"Abi?" Howel says. "Is Cerra telling the truth?"

I hesitate, moistening my lips. Cerra nods frantically. "Yes," I say eventually. "It was me."

Pause. "Who was it?"

"Elsia. Elsia Bu..."

"Not their name," Howel says. "Do you expect me to know who you mean? I need a district."

The sickness in me burns into anger. How can he not know any of their names? Are they really just numbers to him? Maybe that's how he manages it, how he can kill them with no feeling. Maybe they really aren't people to him. I made a point of learning as many names as possible. That's the difference between us.

"District Eleven girl," I say, not able to say anything I want to.

There's a long pause. I think he's not going to reply when he says "Good." And then the walky-talky falls silent.

With one last look at Elsia's body, I stagger to my feet and return the walky-talky to Cerra. She smiles consolingly at me, and I think it's genuine.

"Why did you tell him that?" I ask quietly.

"Because you needed it," she says. "Do you have any idea how close he is to killing you?"

"Very close?"

"Closer than that. If you can make him think that you're a killer then he might give you a break."

"But he won't believe me. I'll cry whenever he asks about it..."

"He'd expect that," she says. "You're not a Career. He doesn't expect you to suddenly turn into one. He just wants you to be useful." She yawns. "Come on, that's enough for tonight. Let's head back to the castle. I'll make hot chocolate!"

I return her smile. She does care, I can tell that she does. I can't judge a Career for killing, I can't judge anyone for killing in this arena. Everyone wants to get home, and the only way to do that is to kill. It's a horrible game, dreamed up in the twisted minds in the most corrupt of humans, but it's a game that we have to play. It's a game that _I _have to play, I won't be able to bluff my way through forever. But if I can fool Howel, just for now, then that should buy me some more time before I truly have to kill.

As we walk back to the castle together, a helicopter slices the air above the forest, coming to collect Elsia's body and take her back to her family.

* * *

_**Day 6**_

**Raquelle POV**

I can walk! When I first tried it this morning, I expected my leg to collapse beneath me like it has done every other time. But no, it supported my weight as well as it used to. I even managed to run around the pool a few times. It's as good as new! Well, the scar's still there, but that was to be expected. I'm not useless anymore; I can get back into the action.

When Yve wakes up, she looks over at my normal resting place and lets out a cry of alarm when she sees I'm not there. Careful to be light on my feet, I sneak up behind her. I lean in closer.

"Boo!" I exclaim, right next to her ear.

She jumps, but her scream quickly turns into a laugh when she sees me behind her. She pushes me backwards and I almost topple into the pond. I find my balance and dissolve into giggles along with her.

"Your leg works!" Yve says.

"Thanks for stating the obvious," I say with a smile. "But really, thanks for all of your help. I'd never have recovered without you."

"Aw, you give me too much credit," Yve says. "I think that this calls for a victory breakfast! Cereal bars?"

"Brilliant," I say, sitting down as she rummages in the backpack. "An absolute feast."

"Isn't it?" She hands me a cereal bar.

Any food tastes good in the games. The fact that we've managed to carry on having three meals a day is almost unbelievable. Some districts eat worse than this every day. It's nothing compared to the food we had in the Capitol, but it's still good food.

"So, what's the plan now you can walk?" Yve asks. "I'm guessing we're not just going to sit around here every day anymore."

"As much as I'd like to stay here, I think we need to do something," I say.

"Something as in..?"

I take a deep breath. I'm about to say either something really stupid or something really brilliant. It's a little plan that's been evolving in the back of my mind for a while now. I kept trying to push it away, but it kept crawling back to me, until it eventually convinced me that it wasn't quite so stupid any more. Getting it to convince Yve is a different problem all together.

"Well, call me an idiot, but I think we should kill a Career."

Yve bursts out laughing. "That's a good one!" She looks up at me. "Oh God, you're serious."

"I think we could do it," I say. "If we get a Career then we're bound to keep our sponsors. Wandering around in the woods isn't going to do anything for us. Sponsor gifts are getting more expensive, we're going to have to do something incredible to carry on getting food."

"I see your point, but a Career? I can't kill a Career! I can't kill anyone!"

"You don't have to, you'll just support me," I say. "Remember, I got an eight on training! That's Career level!"

"Some of them got tens!"

"I think I could do it," I say. "Especially if we get the element of surprise."

"Raquelle, you're smiling like a maniac," Yve says. "What's your plan?"

"We attack the castle."

"That's it, I'm out," Yve says, crossing her arms. "I'm not going on a suicide mission and I don't want you to."

"No no no! Just listen," I say, trying to make my smile slightly less crazy. "We know when the Careers hunt, so we can attack when they'll be at their weakest."

"How do we know when they hunt?"

"When have the cannons been going off?" I ask, then answer the question myself. "At night! That's when they hunt, it has to be."

"So we're going to attack the castle when no one's in?"

"Nope," I say. "We'll attack early in the morning, at about six o'clock-ish. They'll all be worn out from their hunt, they'll all be asleep, and they definitely won't be expecting an attack."

There's a long pause while Yve thinks over my proposal. I smile at her. "Pretty please?"

"Stop doing that!" she says with a laugh. "Okay, Raquelle, you're mental, but I trust you. I think you might be on to something here."

"Really? I didn't actually expect you to agree!"

"Your idea makes sense," Yve says. "The castle's huge, they won't all be sleeping in the same room. We should be able to just sneak in, stab one of them, and get out."

"Exactly!" Adrenaline rushes through me. It was just a crazy daydream of an idea when I first thought of it, but now it might actually happen. I wasn't lying, I do think that I could kill a Career. Because they're Careers, I shouldn't feel as much guilt as when I killed that girl from Ten. I'll be doing the other tributes a favour this time. "So, do you think you're up to it?"

"You're right," Yve says, slowly beginning to smile. "We need to do something impressive."

"So..?"

"All right, we'll do it," Yve says. "But if this goes wrong, it's all your fault!"

"Yay!" I punch the air and throw myself into hugging Yve. She giggles and pushes me away.

"Hey, careful with your leg!" she says.

The pain in my leg is a distant memory now. It seems like some weird dream, like I've actually been able to walk this entire time.

I can't wait until tomorrow morning. I never thought I'd be excited about the idea of killing someone. That's not the part that I'm looking forward to though. I'm looking forward to proving that I can do it, to myself and to my sponsors. If I can kill a Career then there's a very real possibility that I can win this game. As long as I only think of them as Career, not as another tribute, then I'll be able to do it.

* * *

**The poll is actually working now! So, if you haven't done so already, could you vote for your favourite tribute?**

**I've decided that I'm going to do a submit-a-tribute fic once I've finished this one. It won't be over for a long time yet (we're a little over halfway through) but I'm going to miss it once it's gone. I'm going to open submissions for tributes when I finish writing this fic, not when I finish updating it. I'll make sure to tell you when it opens :)**


	23. Break

**Howel POV**

I sit in the empty lounge, an open book on my lap. It's ten o'clock but none of the others are awake yet. I don't blame them, they all seemed pretty tired before the hunt yesterday, I can only imagine what state they returned to the castle in. I prefer the castle when the others aren't awake, it's much calmer. During the day, only my room is as quiet as the lounge is now.

I had no luck in the hunt yesterday. We scoured as much of the cliff as possible until Zozi dragged me back to the castle. I think we were getting close, we found our first sign of other tributes. In a cave at the foot of the cliff were the ashes of a campfire. By the fire was a pink teddy bear. The ashes seemed quite old, but at least it assured me that there were tributes in the caves. Or at least there had been.

Zozi was better company than Eli had been, she said hardly anything during the hunt. She proved her skill with a bow once more when she shot a bird out of the sky. I didn't see the bird until the arrow was in it. She must have caught the movement at the very edge of her peripheral vision and jumped at it. If it had been a tribute then there would have been two cannons last night.

Zozi didn't seem that pleased about her sister's kill. Again, she didn't say much, but she gasped when she heard the news. I really didn't think that Abigayl would be able to kill. It was a pleasant surprise when she did. Maybe I misjudged her. But now my excuse for killing her is gone.

The creak of footsteps on the stairs makes me look up. It's Zozi, yawning as she descends the staircase. She frowns when she sees me watching her.

"Don't you sleep?" she comments, stepping off of the last stair.

"I do, just not much," I say.

I close the book and place in on the coffee table. "Is Abigayl awake yet?"

"She's just waking up," Zozi says. "Howel, it must have hurt her a lot to kill that girl yesterday, she doesn't need to have you interrogating her about it."

"Oh, I wasn't going to interrogate her, just congratulate her."

"Yeah, I doubt she'll like that much either."

"By the way, we're not hunting today. You're all too tired to be efficient. The next hunt will be tomorrow night. Spread the word."

"Will do."

She walks past me into the kitchen. After a while I hear the distant sound of a kettle boiling. It's strange to wake up in the castle without having Abigayl cooking something in the kitchen. I must admit, it was nice to wake up to the smell of cupcakes.

I pick up my book again, but before I can return to reading I hear footsteps on the stairs once more. I glance up to see Abigayl. She freezes like a startled animal when my gaze falls on her.

"Zozi's in the kitchen," I say, looking down at the book.

Abigayl nods and hurries down the stairs. She begins to cross the room, but stops mid-step when I look up again. This is quite good fun actually. I don't see why she's so scared of me today. Normally she's still got the guts to speak back in that annoying way that she does.

"Abi," I say, using her preferred name for the first time. I can tell that she notices by the way she jumps slightly when I say it. "Well done." She doesn't reply, so I continue. "It's not easy, doing what you did."

She relaxes slightly, but still doesn't move. Then gradually a smile appears on her lips.

"Thank you."

I nod and return to my book. Abi's light footsteps on the floorboards fade as she follows her sister into the kitchen. She might not be completely useless after all, if she killed that girl. She could easily turn her skill at cooking into a skill with poisons. If she'd had Career training then she could have been a deft assassin.

I'm not sure if that makes me hate her more.

* * *

**Luck POV**

"Hello Capitol!"

I wake with the same greeting to my torturers as I have done for the past few days. They probably all think I'm going mad. I'm not, I promise. I'm still a hundred percent sane. I'm just taking it easy for a while. I can afford to do that. I'm not going to win, so I might as well enjoy my time here.

I find my glasses lying beside me and slide them on. The lenses are dirty, but it's clearer than my vision is without them. I take a while to wake up before I talk to the Capitol. I've got into the habit of doing little 'vlogs' every now and again. Just to talk to someone, and convince myself that they're listening. I had a blog back at home. We were one of the few people with internet access in our area. I was stealing it from one of the richer families. They never noticed, so I got away with it. I'd have liked to have had the chance to make one final post on my blog, just to explain why there weren't going to be any more posts.

"So..." I say, waving to get the camera's attention. I don't know how many of my vlogs they've shown on television, or how many of them they've actually filmed. I don't care; it's just nice to say these things to someone. "Day six. Wow, I really didn't think I'd get this far. Tomorrow I'll have done a week in the arena! That's a strange thought. I'll have to have a party or something. No mutts invited. Anyway, plan for the day. Well, I'm going to get some more water from the stream, find some more berries, maybe some nuts as well if I'm feeling adventurous. After that, well, I guess it'll just be a case of wandering around for a bit, like it always is. Sorry for being so dull. Oh yeah! Girl died last night – Elsia, I think her name was? You know that of course, you watched it! My condolences to her family, I only spoke to her once but she seemed like a nice girl. I think she was allied with Abi. I really hope she's okay. I would like to see her again, before I die. Seeing her face in the sky doesn't count. Anyway, changing the subject, that's making me depressed. Thanks to anyone who's sponsored me, that water bottle was really appreciated by the way." It was just an empty plastic bottle, but it had made collecting water so much easier. It was nice to know that someone, somewhere, cared about me enough to part with their money on my behalf. "I hope you're all saving up to get me a bow! Nah, I'm joking, I know that those things must be pretty expensive by this point in the games. But if you do feel like getting me one, that'd be brilliant. I could actually do something then! I can use a bow, you know. I'm useless with all other weapons, so don't just drop random sharp things onto me. I'll have a better chance of hurting myself than hurting anyone else! Anyway, I'll leave it as that for now, you're probably bored of me waffling on like this. Bye bye Capitol! See you at lunch!"

I continue smiling for a while, then let it fall when I'm confident that the camera will have cut away from me, if it was even watching me in the first place. Right, time to go and get some food. I'm getting a bit bored of berries now. I'll see if anything else is edible.

* * *

**Michael POV**

I sit alone, sorting the puzzle pieces into colour groups. The green is the meadow, the purple is the forest and the warm grey is the cliff. It's a dull task, but it'll help us out in the long run. So far, we've only managed to solve the bit with the castle in it, and that's because the castle pieces looked so different from all of the others. We really need this map. The arena this year is huge, and without the map we're going to stand very little chance of finding tributes. On some pieces, a blue line cuts through the purple. There must be streams in the forest. If we can find one of them then we're sure to find tributes. They gather around water sources.

I find an edge piece and put it in a separate pile. We need to think of this puzzle as a puzzle as well as a map. That's why it's taking us so long to solve. We're trying to solve it from the castle outwards, like drawing a map. We just need to solve it like a normal puzzle.

I hear a distant crash and am pulled out of my little world of puzzle solving. It came from somewhere above me. I walk over to the door and stare up the twisting staircase. The only thing up there is Howel's room. What does he do up there all day? Whatever it is, I'm sure it's more interesting than solving puzzles.

I climb the staircase right to the top, to where my path is blocked by a heavy door. Howel spends all day in there. It's not his bedroom, he sleeps in the same corridor that we all do, so I've got no idea what's in there. To my right, a narrow arrow slit window looks out over the arena. It stretches far into the distance, no end in sight. I didn't realise quite how high up these towers went. It makes me feel queasy, although I know that I'm safe.

I knock loudly on the door. There's the sound of shifting furniture behind it and then it opens a little, revealing Howel's face.

"What do you want?" he snaps.

"I heard a crash," I said. "I came to check that you're okay."

"I'm fine. Now go away."

I try to get a better look into the room but Howel blocks me. Then I catch the telltale scent of smoke.

"Howel? Is something burning in there?" I ask.

"What? No."

"I can smell smoke."

"Fine, I'm just experimenting with explosives. Go away now."

He goes to close the door but I block it with my foot and smile patronisingly. Howel mutters something under his breath.

"Explosives?" I ask. "That sounds like something we should know about. Also, explosives don't sound like a great thing to be playing about with in an old building like this."

"I'm just trialling them to see if they'll be useful in the future," he says, growing visibly more irritated. "I'm not going to blow up the building."

"Oh, I know you won't," I say. "Is that what you thought I meant? Sorry for the bad communication. I was just interested in what you do up here."

Howel smirks. That's never a good sign. "You want to see what I do in here? I 'm sure you don't, but I'll happily show you if you're _really _interested."

I hesitate. I doubt that I should want to know what's behind the door, but if I turn back now then he'll have won. He doesn't control me. "I'm guessing it's not just explosives then."

"Much more. You have no idea how much more."

I glance over my shoulder, hoping to see someone else climbing the stairs. I'm alone.

"Go on then, show me."

"Very well."

He opens the door and I instantly regret asking. Never in my wildest, most twisted nightmares would I have thought that this was what Howel's room was like. It's a circular room with a domed ceiling, old rafters supporting the roof above our head. It feels like some kind of giant dovecote. In the centre is a bloodstained workbench. Surgical tools and vials of chemicals cover it, along with torn notebook pages covered in frantic handwriting. Another workbench is pushed against the back wall, blackened from Howel's explosive experiments. Books are everywhere, on all kinds of subjects. Plants, animals, medicine, poisons, torture. Some aren't even in English, I can't think of why Howel would want them.

But what truly horrifies me are the cages. Three huge, metal cages, all swarming with rats. Most of the creatures are mangy, scrawny things covered in bites and scratches. Howel is lucky that he'd been practicing explosives. The smell of the smoke barely covers the putrid stench of blood and decay that the rats give off. Howel's watching my expression all the time, as the truth about the place dawns on me. He smiles slightly with hint of arrogant pride.

"Howel... you..." I can't think of words that express how I feel. It's all I can do not to throw up as I'm hit by the smell, the smoke, and the squeaking of rats.

"It's my laboratory," Howel says, sitting in the red velvet chair by the worktable. "Do you like it? It's where I study the art of killing."

I close my eyes and cover my mouth. It's almost unbearable in here. I can't make myself run away though. Fear roots me to the spot.

"What else did you think it would be?" Howel picks up a scalpel and strokes the blade. I can make out the dried blood on it.

"You're... you're not human..." I say, looking at the pleased look in his eyes.

"Of course I am," Howel says with a laugh. "After all, no matter what creatures the Capitol creates, the worst monsters will always be us. It was humans that threw us into this arena, wasn't it? To watch children die, to encourage it, to enjoy it – don't you think that's cruel? But whatever they do, whatever atrocities they commit, they'll always be human, just as I am." He looks up from the scalpel and meets my eyes. "Or is that what scares you? That this is what humanity actually is? Beneath the smiles and the feelings, this is what we all actually are? Well, I can tell you that you're wrong. Not everyone is strong enough to handle this, this knowledge of life and death, this power. The weaker beings will bend and break under its weight. It's only us, us Careers, who can truly bear this burden."

He stands up and walks to one of the rat cages. It opens with a squeak of rusted hinges and Howel plunges his hand into the mass of rodents. He grabs one and pulls it out sharply. The pathetic creature writhes and squirms as it tries to escape, nipping at his skin with tooth and claw. Howel throws it down onto the desk. Before it can run away, he slams the scalpel into its leg, pinning it to the surface. It squeals with pain and I can no longer control my urge to be sick. I run to the window just in time. Howel laughs, driving another scalpel into another leg.

"I thought you'd be one of the strong ones, Michael," he says. "But you're still clinging to this fake ideal of 'humanity' that's been imposed on us. You're not in the real world any more, you're in the arena. This is no time for your morals to get in the way."

I look back into the room. A blade sticks into each of the rat's little feet now. All it can do is wriggle and squeak as its blood leaks onto the stained work surface. Howel idly traces patterns on its back with the tip of a dagger. Beads of blood follow the blade a moment after it cuts the skin, like a small child racing to catch up with a parent. Swallowing my fear and disgust, I clench my hands into fists.

"I am not weak," I say slowly and deliberately. "You're the weak one Howel, to give into this bloodlust so readily, so _eagerly_. Your impertinence disgusts me! It's our emotions and sense of right and wrong that separates us from these animals." I gesture at the rats that fight at the bottom of one of the cages and look away quickly before the nausea rises again. "If you can throw away your conscience so quickly, then you are no better than a mindless mutt, a creation of the Capitol. And if you dare to call that weakness strength then you are not only pathetic, you are a fool."

Howel stops drawing on the rat and looks up, leaning his head onto his hand. A small, condescending smile appears on his lips.

"Just you wait, Bijoque, you'll break eventually. Everyone does. And when that fragile mask you're wearing shatters, we'll see who you really are."

"No level of me, not even the deepest and the darkest, will ever be this diabolic."

"Then the facade will break and the world will see the coward that hides behind it." He picks up a small shard of metal and drives it into the rat's flesh. "And, believe me, I'll be there to watch."

Another shard enters the rat, and another, and another, to the point where it looks like a pin cushion. I keep eye contact with Howel the whole time. He's wrong. I know he's wrong – his claims shouldn't anger me this much. But the fact that another human could sink to this level so quickly terrifies me. I might not have this level in me, but Howel certainly does, and there's no way of telling who else might.

"There's only so much we can take," he says, driving a final shard of metal into the rat. "Before we break." He takes the rat's head between his thumb and forefinger and twists it sharply. There's a faint crack as it neck snaps and it falls limp. Its blood still oozes onto the desk and Howel's hands. "Look at that," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Isn't that odd? All life wants to continue living – rat, tribute, whatever – and they'll hold on for so long against so much, just carrying on going. Until one little thing, a little jerk of the neck, destroys them. Does that make sense to you? That they can take so much pain, and yet be so fragile at the same time?"

With a shock, I realise the moment that Howel broke. At the bloodbath, when he made his first kill. At the same moment he broke Hero's neck. It was then that I discovered how much killing hurt, and Howel discovered how much fun it was.

I don't say anything. I turn away from the broken body of the rat, away from it all, and make my way out of the room.

"Oh, and Michael?" Howel calls to me. "Don't mention this to the others. It can be our secret."

* * *

**And just when you thought Howel might be getting better...**

**This was actually one of my favourite chapters to write. Because I'm weird like that. Howel's just so much fun when he's in monologing villain mode.**


	24. Song of the Arena

**Uwel POV**

I knew we'd find her at some point, I just hoped that I'd be ready for it when it happened. Turns out that I'm not. The crumpled body of robot Hero lies at the foot of the cliff. I freeze when I see it. Memories of that fight, and of the Hero that I loved, flash through my mind. My legs feel weak and I grab hold of the cliff for support.

"Uwel?" Samkin says cautiously. I can't reply. I don't know what to say.

I run over to the machine. She's pretty mangled. She's lost a leg and her right arm dangles away from the shoulder, held there only by tendons of wire. Her torso has been crushed, destroying the central system that powered her. Blades jut out of her in some places, but she's still clearly Hero. The tatters of her white dress are stained with Lecks's blood, though it has faded to a brown. Her wide eyes stare at the sky, unseeing. Her hair is matted with blood, but still shines golden beneath the sun. Carefully, I crouch down beside her. It's incredible how lifelike the Capitol made her, but she's not quite right. Little flaws that only I would remember are missing from her carefully sculpted face. But that doesn't stop her from looking like Hero. Tears sting my eyes as I stroke the cold skin of her cheek. I half expect the machine to wake again, but it lies still. I gently close her eyes and the artificial eyelashes tickle my fingers as I lie her to rest.

I know that it's not her. The blades and broken machinery are a constant reminder of that, but I never had a chance to say goodbye to the real Hero. As long as I only look at her face, I can pretend that this thing is her.

Samkin watches me silently. He hasn't moved from the path. He can tell that this is something I want to be alone for. I stare at Hero and gradually begin to smile. I need to stop thinking about her death. I need to think about her life, about how brilliant she was. About the walks through the countryside that we would take, the chats about nothing that would last for ours. Her sneaking out of her house to come and see me in the middle of the night, me distracting her from her work at the cafe. Her smile. She's given me these memories. If I can keep the memories alive, then she'll live forever in my heart.

A tear falls and settles on her cheek. Then another, and another, until I'm sobbing like a child again. It seems like such a long time ago that Hero died. It was only a week. I'm a different person than I was before the games began, but now I'm my old self again. The me when I didn't have to be strong. I want to take her into my arms and stroke her hair, but I know that there are blades that would stab me and my hand would find the blood of my friend in her hair. I can only watch as she's blurred by my tears.

"I... I love you, Hero," I say softly and the words splutter over sobs. "I couldn't protect you... I'm... I'm sorry. I'll win it Hero, I'll win it for you. Wherever you are, I'll make you proud."

I wonder if they've buried her by now, or if she's still lying somewhere in a coffin in District Five. What do her parents think as they watch me? Do they want me to win, or do they blame me for her death? I'll get home, I have to, to apologise to them. I'll place flowers on Hero's grave, visit her every week. But I know in my heart that she wouldn't want that. She'd want me to stop clinging onto her memory, to move on. I just don't know if I could do that.

"Goodbye, Hero," I whisper. "I'll never forget you."

Wiping my eyes on the back of my hand, I stand up and back away from the body. I walk over to Samkin, but still watch the robot, as if I'm waiting for a claw to descend from the sky and pick her up. It doesn't, of course. That thing was never a tribute. It was a machine created by the Capitol to kill me. Its creator is probably laughing at me right now for being so sentimental about my intended assassin.

I turn away from it, and suddenly feel as if a great weight has been lifted from my conscience. I just wish that I could have held the real Hero's hand as she died.

"Let's go," I say quietly to Samkin.

"You really cared about her, didn't you?" he says.

I nod. "I'd probably have married her, eventually."

It sounds strange to say that. I think I always knew it, deep inside of me, but I'd never thought that far into the future. It's the truth though, I know that much.

"I'm sorry," Samkin says after an awkward pause. I know that he's just trying to break the silence.

"Don't be. You didn't kill her, you couldn't have saved her." _And neither could I_, I add to myself as I look to the sky. The silhouettes of birds swirl above and the breeze plays with my hair. Hero's dead, there's no changing that. It's time for me to live.

**

* * *

**

Abi POV

I carry the last load of plates through into the kitchen and dump them into the sink with the others. We had a big lunch to make up for missing yesterday's. It was really nice, but it did make a lot of washing up. Michael seemed a little odd though. He sat as far away from Howel as possible, but that's not strange, everyone tries to avoid Howel. It was how he acted around Eli that was weird. He just didn't talk to her much, no matter how much she tried to trigger conversation. He didn't joke as much as usual. Maybe he was just feeling tired.

I'm drying a plate when I hear the music. It drifts through the castle, sweet and sad. At first I think I'm just hearing things, but it continues. A slow waltz played on a single piano. Fear hits and I freeze. But what kind of strange Gamemaker trick would be heralded by such a beautiful melody?

I put down the plate and leave the kitchen, my curiosity drawing me closer to the source of the music. It grows louder as I follow it and I can really hear the complexity of the music. Melodies and harmonies dance together, creating something more than any of them are on their own. But it all fits together so well, into one perfect piece. It stirs feeling in me and I stop in the corridor. I stare at nothing in particular and let the music wash over me. It's so filled with sorrow, but with a brief glimpse of hope. Everything that's happened so far runs through my mind. This is the music of the arena.

I sigh and continue through the corridors. I've got to find out where this music is coming from. I'm in a part of the castle that I haven't visited since we arrived here. It feels strange, almost like I'm in a completely different building altogether. I stop outside two large doors made of a dark wood. The music seems to be coming from behind them. Why have I never been in here before? I reach for the golden door handle with a trembling hand. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. It could still be a trap, but I don't care. I need to find the source of the music.

Gently, I push the door open. I gasp when I open my eyes and see the room that I'm in. It's a ballroom, grand and luxuriant. Two huge crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting light over the huge room. Marquetry covers the panels on the walls, creating glorious patterns out of different shades of wood. The floor is tiled like a gold and black chessboard, shimmering underneath the glow of the chandeliers. A tapestry covers the far wall and paintings hang on the walls. They were landscapes, paintings of previous arenas to match the Victors' portraits in the corridors. With the music surrounding me, I feel more than ever like I have stumbled into a fairy tale. In the corner is where the music is coming from. A simple grand piano, dwarfed by the scale of the room. At the keys is the person I'd least expect. Howel. His eyes are closed as his fingers dance across the keys, the rhythm of the music flowing from him into the instrument.

"Howel?" I ask, not quite believing my eyes.

He stops playing abruptly and I'm thrown out of the almost trancelike state that the music put me in. I can't help but look at him in a different way. The beautiful music that he was creating jars with my current image of him as a psychotic killer.

"What?" he snaps.

I walk towards him, each footstep echoing around the ballroom. "You can play? That was amazing, Howel."

"Of course I can play – did you think I was just guessing? If you don't want anything then please leave."

I stroll around to the back of the piano and am shocked to see that there is no sheet music on the stand. Was he really just playing from memory?

"What was it?" I ask. "What was the music called?"

"It was nothing," Howel says. "I was improvising, it's nothing special."

"_That_ was improvised?" I exclaim. "That's... that's incredible!"

"Do you need anything?" he asks, growing more and more annoyed at my presence.

"I wanted to find the music, that's all," I say. "I wanted to congratulate you."

"Well you've done that now. Now go away."

"I used to play," I say, leaning against the piano. "I wasn't anywhere near as good as you, but I knew enough to sound better than the rest of the kids at school. That style of waltz that you were playing is from District One."

"I know that, it's where I live," he says through gritted teeth.

"I was just saying," I say. "It's really nice. Will you play again? Please?"

"And then will you go away?"

"Sure."

He sighs and starts to play again. I watch him in awe. It's as if he doesn't even think about the notes that he's playing, they just happen. His hands fly across the keys with precision and grace. He makes it look almost effortless. I smile and close my eyes. To be this close to the music, to almost feel it in my heart, is incredible.

"Hey! It's Howel!"

"For God's sake!" Howel slams his hands down onto the keys and we simultaneously look up to see Michael and Eli standing in the open doorway. Michael grins at Howel as Eli peers around the room.

"You're really good!" Michael says, running over to the piano.

He presses a few keys and Howel glares at him. He instantly recoils.

"So I've been told," Howel says. "Now if that's all that you wanted to say then will you kindly get yourself out of my sight."

"It's just kind of unexpected," Eli says, racing to Michael's side. "I mean, you're all crazy and stuff. You're not exactly the kind of guy that I thought would be able to play."

"If you don't get out then I'm going to throw you out."

"I'd like to see you try," Eli says with a smirk. "We all know that I'm stronger than you."

"Now's not a time for arguments," Michael cuts in quickly.

"There's always time for an argument," Eli says, waving a hand dismissively.

"All of you, go away," Howel says again.

I turn to leave, not wanting to annoy Howel any more. I know what he can be like if we get on his nerves. But as I'm about to leave, Cerra rushes in through the door, followed by Zozi. Cerra gasps and smiles broadly when she sees the room. Her eyes fall on Howel.

"Oh! It was you!" she says, running over to join us at the piano. "That was incredible – so pretty! How did you learn to..."

"Leave! Everyone, get out!"

"We're trying to be nice!" Eli insists. "It was just interesting to see you being good at something that doesn't involve killing or maiming."

"What a surprise," Howel says sarcastically. "Had it not occurred to you that I might have a life outside of the arena?"

He stands up and slams down the piano lid. Shooting a glare at Eli, he storms away from the piano.

"Wait," Zozi says, and we all turn to look at her.

She crouches in the centre of the hall, poking one of the floor tiles inquisitively. I wander over to her side, trying to escape from Howel's seething anger that is gradually growing.

"What is it?" I ask, and look up to see that the others have begun to crowd around us.

"There's a gap between the tiles," Zozi says.

She points at the tiles and I can vaguely make out the outline of a large rectangle. She's right, the gap is slightly bigger than the ones between the other tiles. I don't know why she's pointed it out though, it's probably just a mistake made by the Gamemakers.

"I can't see anything," Cerra says.

"Look, there it is," I say, tracing the rectangle.

"Is that it?" Cerra says. "That's nothing important."

"Yes it is," Howel says. I jump – I hadn't noticed that he'd joined us.

"Then what is it?" Eli asks.

"Try using your brains for once, I'm sick of thinking for all of you," Howel spits.

"Sorry Howel, but all I can see is a rectangle," Michael says, standing up and edging away from Howel.

"That's because you're an idiot," Howel says. "Think about it! It's obvious."

I stare at the floor, trying to see whatever it is that Howel can see. There's something nagging at the back of my mind, but every time I try to bring it into focus it swirls away from me again. Maybe there is more to this than I first thought.

"Nope, still can't see it," Eli says.

"Think! Think about the games, about what always happens in the games."

"A gamemaker trap," Zozi says.

"Close," Howel says. "Not quite."

Then something clicks. "A feast!" I exclaim, feeling rather pleased of myself.

"Well done, Dowl," Howel says.

"I don't quite get it..." Eli says.

"It's obvious!" Howel snaps. "It's a panel that'll move aside to allow a table to appear when a feast happens! It doesn't take a genius to work it out."

"It is actually quite a lot to assume when all you've got is a rectangle," Michael says.

"But it's right! I'm sure of it!" Howel's grinning. I can tell that his mind is swimming with ideas on how he could use this newfound knowledge to his advantage. "This is perfect, the ideal situation to set a trap! We'll be able to turn this feast into the second bloodbath!"

Though we won't, of course. Feasts aren't announced until at least the final eight. By then, there won't be a 'we' to set a trap any more. We'll be enemies by then, if we're still alive. And we won't let any of the fragile fragments of friendships stand in our way as we paint this hall with blood.

**

* * *

**

Yes, that was all not-very-subtle foreshadowing. The next chapter is really big, so I just needed a bit of filler to go before it. Sorry for focusing on the Careers so much, it's just easy to find stuff for them to do.

**In other news… I've finished writing this fic! It's really really long, but I'm proud of it. I'm going to carry on updating two, maybe three times a week. **

**I'm going to be opening submissions for my SYOT fic at some point next week. If you want to reserve a spot or two, then PM me. **

**Thanks for all of the reviews on the last chapter! I think it was my most reviewed so far – obviously you lot love rat torture!**


	25. Bloodstained Heroes

_**Day 7**_

**Raquelle POV**

I wake while the moon is still in the sky. I'm not sure that I ever fell into what you'd call sleep. It was a restless night. The excitement that ran through me kept me awake although my mind begged to rest. I felt like I used to when I was a small child and it was the night before Christmas. It's a strange Christmas to wake to, knowing that today will be the day that either I kill, or I die.

I stand up and yawn. Dusting some of the mud off of me, I head to the edge of the pool. I wash the dirt from my face and stare at my reflection. I look a complete mess. There are twigs in my tangled hair and my glasses are askew on my nose. I straighten them, checking that the lenses are secure in their frames. I'm amazed that they made it this far in the games without breaking. My vision's not that bad if they did break, but without them I'd be much more susceptible to surprise attacks. I can see a few metres ahead of me, but after that it's all just blurs.

I look back over at Yve. She's still fast asleep, snoring loudly in a most unladylike way. I could wake her up, but it's probably better to give her a bit more time to rest. It'd be nice to have a watch so I could have a precise time to launch our attack. I'm just going to have to make a vague guess based on a primitive judgement of the sky. My fingers drum against the ground. If I get this wrong then I'll be creating a horribly brutal death for both of us. But if everything goes to plan, if they are all sleeping when we attack, then we'll come out as victors, with at least one more death on our hands.

I find my sword in our small pile of supplies. The blade shines under the soft glow of the ghostlights, and once more I catch a glimpse of myself in the metal. I've killed someone with this weapon before, I can do it again. If I can kill a defenceless girl, then I can easily bring myself to kill a trained murderer. The people back home will see me as a hero, standing up to the Capitol by killing their pets. I know I'm no hero, but I'm no villain either. I'm just doing what I have to do to survive.

I wait a while longer before the nervous excitement builds in me to the point where I can bear it no longer. I shake Yve awake. She blinks into consciousness and finds her glasses.

"Why are you... oh," she says, remembering what we agreed on yesterday. "Is that now?" she exclaims, eyes wide.

"Yep!" I say, with a bit more enthusiasm than she was expecting.

"So, how's this going to work?" Eve says, in a tone that suggests she is choosing her words carefully. "Are we going to have breakfast first, or are we just going to... y'know..."

"You can have breakfast if you like," I say with a shrug. "You might want the energy."

"I think I'll pass," Yve says. "I'd kind of like to get this over with."

"We'll be back in time for elevenses!" I say.

"Raquelle, promise me that you won't do anything stupid," Yve says, a pleading look in her eyes.

"What? More stupid than attacking a castle full of ruthless killers?"

"Yeah... Just be careful. Don't get in over your head. Get in, kill the first one you find and then get the Hell out of there. I'm supporting you in this, I'll watch you'll back, I'll even fight if I have to, because I believe in you. Please show me that I had a good reason to. I've trusted the wrong people in the past, I don't want to find out I've made that mistake again."

"Yve, believe me. We're going to be fine. I know that we can do this. I wouldn't be putting my neck on the line if I didn't trust in myself to succeed, and I think that you can trust me too. If you really want to stay here then you can. But I promise you, you are _not_ going to die. This is our first step on the path to victory, and I want you to be there with me. You're my friend Yve, I won't let you down."

Yve smiles although I can tell that she's frightened. "And I won't let you down either."

"Are you ready to go?" I ask, holding out a hand to her.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

I pull her up and she pushes her hair out of her face. I pass her the hatchet and she sags as she takes the slight weight. Trying to get used to the feel of the weapon in her hands, she waves the axe in the air. She stares at the axe head.

"I could kill someone with this," she says quietly.

"Well, that's kind of the point," I say.

"I know, but now I'm actually thinking about it." She pokes the axe cautiously, as if it could explode at any moment. "God it's sharp. There'd be no recovering from that."

"Yve, are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Yeah," she lowers the axe. "Now let's go kick some Career butt!"

The sun has begun to rise by the time that we reach the edge of the forest. I bite my lip and look towards the castle. My confidence is beginning to fall away. The castle is huge. Will I even be able to find the sleeping Careers before they wake up? Will they even be sleeping?

"Raquelle? Are you okay?" Yve asks.

"I'm fine," I lie instinctively and begin towards the castle at a fast pace.

We stick to the edge of the forest for most of the way. When we finally reach the castle it seems even bigger than I'd imagined it. Towers reach high into the sky and gargoyles peer at us from the stonework. The main doors are open like the mouth of a shark, inviting us unsuspecting fish into the fortress. I'm not sure what I feel as I look at it. I want to run, I know that, but I'm not sure if I want to run into the stronghold or as far away from it as I can. I can't turn back now though. The sponsors want me to go in.

Inside the castle is beautifully decorated, but the entrance hall at least is covered in muddy footprints. This is definitely the home of the Careers. It seems too easy to get into. They could have set a trap for other tributes. Maybe that's why they left the doors open.

While I'm pondering all of this, Yve walks straight in.

"Yve!" I hiss as quietly as I can.

"What? I thought you said we were going in."

"We... we are."

I take a deep breath and cross the threshold. I'm half expecting to be killed right there and then, but somehow my heart keeps beating. I exhale and smile. The castle around us is incredible. The Careers have been living like kings and queens while the rest of us struggle to stay alive in the hostile forest. I stay in the entrance hall for a while and let it all sink in. The art on the walls, the fancy clothes hung on pegs, the half-read books that lie on a cabinet. It's incredible, but it makes my blood boil. I'll have no qualms killing one of the pampered brats that have lived in this ridiculous comfort.

We agree to search the ground floor first, ignoring the sweeping staircases. It'll take forever to search this place, but I'll do it. I'll go through every room twice until there's Career blood on my blade.

* * *

**Abi POV**

I'm awake first again. I get out of bed feeling refreshed and raring to go after the day of relaxation yesterday. The sun shines in through the window, stained pink after passing through my red curtains. The warm glow makes the whole room feel happy.

I open the curtains and make my bed, neatly arranging the covers. Satisfied with my work, I leave the room. The hall feels ominous with the eyes of the past victors fixed on me as silence fills the air. I look at their faces as I go past. There are so many Careers. They all look smug or angry in their portraits, while lots of the victors from other districts seem to be shying away from the artist. Which one am I? Truly, if I won the games, would I be a Career or just another tribute? I'm not sure myself. I'm worried that I'm edging ever closer to being a Career. I might not have the same physical ability as they do, but I seem to think of myself as one of them. I wonder if they see me as an equal yet.

I leave the corridor and the painted eyes leave me. I stop at a mirror and try to make my hair somewhat presentable. I manage to get the largest of the knots out of it, but I don't have a hairbrush on hand to make it neat. Oh well, it'll do.

I head down the stairs towards the kitchen, and that's when I hear the voices. Somewhere in the castle, two girls are talking. To begin with I think it's just Eli and Cerra, but as I get closer I realise that those aren't their voices. One is quite high-pitched, edging on squeaky sometimes, and the other is rather deep for a girl and sounds very nasal. I can't make out the words that they're saying, but I can hear enough to know that those aren't my allies talking. There are other people in the castle.

I freeze and press myself against the wall. Whatever reason that they're here, I doubt that they're just coming round for tea and cake. Suddenly very aware of how loud my breathing is, I peer around the doorway to see if they're in the lounge. The room's empty. My heartbeat roars in my ears and my knees shake. Not my legs, just my knees. I can't control it.

I need to do something. I need to go upstairs, get a weapon, warn the others. I know all of this, but I can't make myself do it. My body won't react to my mind. I curse myself for being so scared. They're just tributes, they're no threat.

But we're all just tributes.

I prise myself away from the wall. The first few steps I take towards the door are slow, but then I realise that I'm probably unintentionally making more noise that way. So I break into a run, charging out of the room and up the stairs. I use my hands as extra feet to propel me as I scramble up the staircase. I reach the landing and turn the corner and see Eli standing in the corridor, sword in hand. She runs over to me.

"Abi?" she asks, placing a hand on my shoulder and feeling me shaking. "What's going on? I heard noises and..."

"There are people in the castle," I say breathlessly. "Other tributes."

"Do you know who?" Eli asks, looking up along the corridor behind me.

"No, I..."

"I'll find out," she says with a quick grin. "You wake the others up. Don't get too frightened, we'll deal with this." She smiles a warm smile at me. "Okay?"

I nod and pats me on the shoulder before dashing away down the corridor. I hope that she'll be okay. Of course she will – she's one of the best fighters in a group of elites. I take a few deep breaths and then knock cautiously on Zozi's door. It opens to reveal my dishevelled sister rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"What?" she snaps.

"Zozi, there are tributes in the castle."

Her eyes widen and suddenly she's alert. She grabs my arm and pulls me into the room. She slams the door behind me and twists the key in the lock.

"Tell me exactly what's going on," she says as she turns to me.

"There are people here, that's all I know," I say hurriedly. "I need to warn the others."

"No!" Zozi shouts, but the harsh look in her eyes softens when she sees me recoil. "No, you need to stay here. You'll be safe here."

"But the others..."

"Can look after themselves! Stay here, hide. I'll protect you."

I want to protest but I can see that there's no point. Zozi will keep me here if she has to knock me unconscious to do it. I slump against the wall beneath the window and stare at the door. I try to stop myself shaking and force back the tears in my eyes. I reassure myself that Eli will be all right, that we'll all be fine, but it does nothing to calm my racing pulse. Despite the fear that flows through me like a disease, I'm sick of having to be protected all the time. I can fight now, Zozi taught me it so that I could defend myself. I should be out there with my daggers, waking up the others and preparing for a fight. But for now, all I can do is hide.

* * *

**Raquelle POV**

"Not here either," I mutter under my breath as I look around yet another lavishly decorated room.

"Wow! They have chocolates!" Yve says, seemingly unaware that stealth and silence are imperative to our success as she pulls a box of chocolates out of a cupboard. She pops one into her mouth. "Delicious! Y'know, if I knew that Careers lived like this then I might have started training myself! Want one?" She holds out the chocolates to me.

"No thank you," I say, pushing the box gently away.

"All the more for me then!" She eats another, grinning.

"Come on, we've got Careers to find." I head towards the next door.

I quickly look out of the window. The sun is much higher and brighter than when we arrived at the castle. We've been wasting time. The longer we spend looking for them, the higher the chance that they'll find us.

Then I hear the creak of footsteps a few rooms behind us. I spin around and ready my sword.

"Damn," I whisper. "Yve, this is it."

"What?" she asks, mouth full of chocolates.

"Get your axe ready, we're going to have a fight on our hands."

My hands are sweaty around the hilt of the sword and my stomach flutters as I frantically make battle plans in my mind. All of them are the same, really. Win the fight as quickly as possible, protect Yve, get out of here. I grin. This is my first chance to really prove myself.

The door opens. The first thing I notice about her is the sword. Long but not ungainly, seemingly perfectly balanced. It's graceful and elegant, the gentle curve of the blade like the smile on its owner's face. My sword looks like a toy in comparison, a crude prototype. Yve gasps behind me and my gaze flicks away from the sword to the Career's face. It's the girl from District Four. I've forgotten her name. Her crazily curly hair spirals around her shoulders. I remember her as seeming quite nice in the interviews, but the smile she wears now isn't fun. In her eyes is a cruel glare, reminding me of a cat that can flutter between friendliness and anger in a split second.

"As much as I like visitors, I prefer them to knock first," she says with a flourish of her sword.

I'm shaking, though not from fear. This is the fight that I've been looking for. A chance to show off my swordsmanship against another master of the blade. I can tell that Yve is nervous, but she stands her ground behind me.

"Maybe if you'd shown some manners then I'd have given you the chance to leave."

And then she attacks me. She's so quick that I barely have time to react when the sword comes straight at my head. I duck and thrust my blade forward. She nimbly avoids it and slashes at me again. With a clash of metal, I parry. I can feel her raw strength through the crossed blades and break away. There's a pause as we lock eyes, challenging one another to make the next move.

We jump into action at the same time. Eli evades my attack but her sword glances my arm. I grit my teeth and don't cry out, although the shallow cut stings like mad and I can see the blood beginning to stain my clothes. Yve shouts my name, distracting Eli for a brief moment. I attack, bringing my sword down on her sword hand. She notices just in time and spins to avoid it, but I still manage to get a slight cut on her side. She spits out a curse.

"You're good," she says, looking up from her injury.

I smirk. "You're not bad yourself."

I attack again, aiming for her head. She parries, batting me away effortlessly. I lash out again before she has a chance. She sidesteps and grabs my arm. In one fluid movement, she has my arm twisted behind my back. I strain to break free, but she just laughs. I try to elbow her in the gut but I miss.

"But you're not good enough, I'm afraid," she whispers in my ear.

The strange thing about bad ideas is that you don't notice how stupid they are until it's too late to turn back. Right now, I realise that this entire attack was a very bad idea. I don't want to die. Surviving my fight with that mutt made me feel invincible. This fight has brought me back down to earth. I glance at the clock on the wall. Quarter to seven. The time of my death.

The Career tears my sword from my hand. I'm powerless to stop her. Then she lets me go. I spin around to look into her savage eyes. She spins the two swords as I back away slowly. With a blur of blades she launches into another attack. The swords are everywhere. I duck and jump and try my best to dodge the blows. I won't be able to keep this up for much longer. One of the swords catches my cheek and I yell as salty blood spills into my mouth. The girl laughs. The sound of her cackling fills me with anger. She thinks that this is funny. I won't let her laughter be the last thing I hear.

I kick out at her legs, throwing her off balance. Taking advantage, I slam myself into her, knocking the air out of her and sending us both sprawling on the floor. I score a punch to the side of her skull. She brings her sword down on my shoulder. I don't have time to react. I scream and grab my shoulder, the blood hot with pain beneath my fingers. It's agonising.

The girl kicks me backwards, stamping down on my stomach and pinning me there as she stands. Her eyes burn with anger, the playfulness completely gone.

"You _bitch_!" she spits. "You've asked for it now! I'm going to make this so slow, so painful that you'll be begging me for mercy."

She throws my sword to the ground and readies her own as the smile grows on her face again. I squeeze my eyes shut. It'll be better if I don't watch. But the blow never comes. The Career breathes in sharply and I open my eyes again. She's staring at nothing, her face twisted with pain. Her breath comes in shuddering gasps. Yve stands behind her, eyes wide with horror. There's an axe in the Careers back. I smile at Yve, my rescuer once again, through my pain. She turns away, tears spilling down her cheeks.

I leap to my feet, shoving the Career to the ground. She screams as the floor drives the axe further into her back. I pick up my sword and bring my foot down on her sword hand. The bones crunch beneath my boot and the girl cries out again. I can't smile like she did. The pain that she's caused me still rages in my shoulder and I'm feeling dizzy from the blood loss. And most of all, when I look at the tearstained face of the girl, that's all she is. She's not a mutt, not a monster, just a girl.

Unlike her, I will show mercy. My sword pierces her throat and, with one last gurgle of blood, her life ends.

The cannon fires in the distance and I collapse beside the body. Yve hugs me tightly, though she's still in floods of tears.

"We killed her," she says through sobs. "We've killed her."

I've done it, I've killed a Career. But I'm not proud of it. I was an idiot for coming here.

* * *

**Michael POV**

Fists thump on my wall and I'm woken by shouting.

"Michael! Michael! Wake up!"

I jump out of bed and grab my spear, looking around the room for the source of the noise. It's coming from the wall that joins onto Zozi's room, but that voice is definitely Abi's. She continues to beat the wall and I run over to her.

"Abi? What's going on?"

The hitting stops. "Michael!" Abi's voice is high-pitched and quick. "There are tributes in the castle! Eli's fighting!"

A scream drifts up the stairs and I jump. I'm pretty sure that that was Eli.

"Get the others," I say to Abi, trying to stay calm as I search the room for my knife.

I find it and run out quickly. I almost trip over my own feet as I charge down the stairs. Another scream cuts through the air, cut off abruptly. I speed up, fearing that I won't hear another scream. I race through the castle, trying to remember which room the shouts came from. Then a cannon fires. It freezes me in my steps and pulls tears from my eyes. Please, please, let that cannon be for the attacker.

My breaths are shallow as I run through a world that's in slow motion. I try to regain control of myself but I can't. I need to find her. I have to.

I turn a corner and sheer horror stops me like I've run into a wall. Eli lies in the middle of a room, her head lolling to one side and her lifeless eyes staring at the door. Blood pours from her neck and stains the rug that she lies on, dying the fabric. I can't believe my eyes. I stare but don't see as grief and anger fight to take control of me. I grip my spear tightly, knowing that I need to use it. That's Eli – wonderful, brilliant Eli. A girl who could have won the games. Now she's a broken doll, useless and lifeless. Memories of her rush through my head and then vanish as quickly as my tears. Rage roars inside of me. Whoever did this needs to die.

And she's there. Raquelle Threld, holding Eli's sword as if it were her own. Her ally, a blonde girl whose tears fall behind her glasses, is bandaging an injury on Raquelle's shoulder. They freeze as they see me. The compassion that I'd felt towards the tributes shrivels and dies under the heat of my anger. Wrath blinds me. All I want is to have their blood drawing roses on the rug beside Eli.

"Yve! Run!" Raquelle shouts, grabbing her friend's hand.

She winces as it puts strain on her injured shoulder. It looks like Eli put up a good fight, but somehow these girls managed to kill her.

Raquelle runs out of the room into the next, constantly glancing back at Yve. I know what I can do to hurt her, how to hurt her as much as she hurt me.

Everyone has a point where they break.

* * *

**Raquelle POV**

I can't do it again. I can't fight another Career – I could barely win against one. Our only choice is to run as the girl's district partner chases us. He's not like her. I can see in his eyes that he won't play. He'll just kill. It was the girl's desire to torture that let me win against her. The same won't apply here.

He's hot on our heels. He knows this castle well; we won't be able to lose him. I run into another room and see that there are no other doors leading out of it. Frantically, I look around for an exit as the Career bursts in. My eyes settle on a window. I run over and struggle to force it open. Pain ignites in my injuries and I cry out. I hear a shout behind me. I turn around just in time to see the boy grab hold of Yve. Keeping her in his grasp, he holds a wicked looking knife to her throat. I freeze as Yve squeezes her eyes shut to keep back tears. No, no, no, no...

"Please, don't..." I say.

"You chose to come here," he says, and I think I hear his voice break slightly. "You could have stayed where you were hiding. You deserve this."

"I do! She doesn't!" I say. "I'm the one you should kill."

I never thought that I'd want to protect anyone as much as I want Yve to be safe right now. She's my closest friend. She's saved my life twice. I can't let her die. I'll do anything for her. I don't know what I'd do without her.

"Raquelle, don't do this," Yve whispers.

"Who says I won't?" he says.

"Just... don't... please..."

"You care about her, do you?" he snarls. "Is she your friend? Then that's exactly why she has to die."

There's a moment of silence as I meet his eyes.

"Win, Raquelle," Yve says with a brave smile. She can't die. I promised her...

A girl runs into the room. It's the beautiful Career from District One with a knife in each hand. She aims one at me.

"Michael, Eli's…" she starts to say.

"Cerra, don't," he says. For a split second I catch something behind his burning rage. A great pain, hollow sorrow. It's gone as quickly as it came when he looks away from the girl. "This is for me to end."

With that, he drags the knife across Yve's neck. It cuts deeply, the serrated edge catching on the skin. Yve gasps and then her life leaves her eyes. Blood flows over the knife onto his trembling hand. Yve goes limp in his arms as a cannon fires. He drops her along with his knife and I scream. Yve's body crumples on the floor and her blood pools around her. She's… she's gone. I didn't have a chance to tell her how much she meant to me. I can't stop the tears any more.

The girl from One aims a knife at my head. Make it quick.

Michael holds out an arm to stop her, not looking away from me. "Run. Leave."

I don't need to be told twice. With one last flash of pain, I force the window open. I jump down, landing awkwardly on the grass below. I don't get up. I lie there, wallowing in my tears and blood. He killed Yve. No, _I _killed Yve. I brought her here. We should never have done this. We should have stayed in the forest where we were the strongest tributes. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot that should be dead. Why did he spare me? I've got to go on without her. That hurts me more than his spear could ever have done.

Maybe that's why he did it.

* * *

**Yes, Howel did sleep through all of that.**

**Two deaths in one chapter! I feel so evil. I'll miss them though – I liked both Eli and Yve :( At least they got a super long chapter to see them out. I was going to split it at Eli's death, but this is all one scene, so it should all be one chapter.**

**This is kind of the point where the story speeds up. There'll be a lot less filler from now on.**

**As always, please review, go and vote in my poll (if you haven't already), and PM me to reserve a space in my upcoming SYOT fic (if you want to).**


	26. Reflections

**Rhian POV**

The first cannon wakes me and I'm conscious to hear the second. Something must have happened, probably a fatal fight between two tributes. I shake Cray awake. In all likeliness, there's no danger facing us right now, but it doesn't hurt to be awake.

"Rhian? What's going on?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say, quickly scanning over the trees surrounding us just in case there is any lurking danger. "We just need to get going."

Cray runs a hand through his scruffy hair. "Get going where?"

"Wherever," I say. "Preferably towards water."

Cray groans and mutters something that I don't ask him to repeat. I know that he thinks all of this wandering through the forest is a waste of time, but we have to do it. If we sit around doing nothing then we'll starve or die of dehydration. Our sponsors will grow uninterested and will spend their money on the more active tributes. We've got to keep going. We've got to show our determination to win.

We roll up our blankets and sleeping bags and pack them into our new backpacks. Our short stay in the Cornucopia gave us the supplies for our most comfortable night yet. We managed to get quite a bit of food as well, but the Careers seemed to have taken most of it, along with the weapons. There was some other stuff – some matches and a torch. We took what we could fit into the large bags.

I notice that Cray's still avoiding eye contact with me. I hope that it's the scar that he finds unsettling, though I suspect that he's still angry about Connor. He grows too attached to people, I knew that that trait of his would be problematic in the games. But his bitterness is completely unjustified. I had nothing to do with Connor's death. The boy died because he wasn't quick enough, and he almost pulled my brother down with him.

I fiddle with my knife while Cray finishes packing. I flick the blade in and out, barely looking at it. I'm meant to win the games with this thing. I wonder if it could even cut deep enough to kill someone. I stop that train of thought. I'm here to protect Cray, not to kill. I might have to, but that is definitely not my intention.

We eat and then set off into the forest. Although this is probably one of the safest places in the arena, with the exception of the castle, I can't help but feel wary. I see leaves fluttering in the breeze as the wings of those fairies, and the sunlight on the silver bark is the gleam of the burning rain. I shake my head to banish the illusions.

We walk for a few hours, stopping occasionally when we're out of breath. We chat about nothing in particular, but I can't fall into the kind of relaxed conversation that we used to have when Connor was here. I did like him. I'm not heartless, of course I felt sad when he died. It's just something that I always knew would happen, and I'm glad that he died before I could get more attached to him.

It's the afternoon by the time that we find the pool. It makes the hours of wandering about suddenly have a purpose. It's a large pond with lilies floating on it, lit by a small light by its edge. There are the ashes of a fire that was extinguished a long time ago by its edge and some footprints around it, but they're virtually fossilised in the mud. There have been people here, but they seem to have moved on.

Cray cheers when he sees the pool and I can't help but smile. Looks like we've found our base for a while. I run to the water's edge and eagerly drink, realising halfway through that that might not have been a good thing to do. I think it's clean though. The tributes that were here before us clearly thought that it was.

I'm still taken aback by the face that looks up at me from the water. It barely looks like me anymore. The Capitol haircut makes me look more like my brother, and the scar has twisted half of my face. But the expression is wrong as well. There's no hint of humour there, in those eyes that have seen a boy die.

I shatter my reflection as I fill up a water bottle.

* * *

**Uwel POV**

I'm back on the cliff face. Samkin seemed to think that now would be a good time to change caves. I disagree, mostly because, in my opinion, changing caves puts us in more danger than staying in one place does. As I edge along the narrow path with my back to the sheer wall of rock and a few centimetres separating me from certain death, I don't feel at all inclined to change my opinion. I want to close my eyes and block out the expanse of air beneath me, but I know just what an utterly stupid idea that is. Not far ahead of me Samkin reaches the point where the path widens again. Foolishly, I hurry my last few steps to catch up with him.

"Okay, can we actually go in one of these caves now?" I ask, my voice shaking as much as my knees.

"No, I was planning on wandering aimlessly around the cliff for a few more hours. I know how much you like it." He smiles at my expression. "Of course we can stop, we're far enough away. As long as we can find a cave that's appropriate."

I dart into the first cave without waiting for a go-ahead from Samkin, which probably isn't a great idea. I know full well what kinds of creatures could be lurking in these caves and I could easily have run straight into one of them. Luckily, I don't. Instead, I almost tumble headfirst into a hole in the ground. Samkin manages to grab my arm just in time.

"Careful!" he says, pulling me backwards.

A pace or so ahead of me, a perfect circle of the ground disappears. I peer into it. Although the dim blue light from the crystals in the cavern illuminates a little way down the pit, the rest is consumed by darkness.

Around the hole, the cave is huge, one of the biggest that we've been in so far. The shape is irregular enough to give us plenty of hiding places and there are a few ledges that we could probably climb to if we had to. Other than the ominous pit, it seems perfect as a resting place.

"So, is here okay?" I ask.

Samkin says nothing and picks up a pebble from the floor. He drops it into the pit and it's swallowed by the dark. After a pause, a very distant splash reaches my ears.

"It's a well," he says, then quickly looks over the rest of the cave. "Yeah, this one will do. Just be careful where you walk."

"I'll try," I say.

A while later and we've got our little camp all set up again. We haven't bothered with making a fire, it's still light outside. Sitting in the cave mouth together, we each take a biscuit as a mid-afternoon snack. It's been a stress-free day, apart from the journey between the caves.

"What'll you do if you win?" Samkin asks.

"What?"

"When you get back home, what'll you do?"

"I... I don't really know. I've never really thought about it. I know I'd live in Victors' Village and have a load of money, but other than that I've got no idea. What do victors do with themselves? They don't have to work or anything, they just sit around until they're made to be mentors. Why?"

Samkin shrugs. "I was just wondering about it. I don't think I'd like it much, to tell the truth. Although I'm sure it'd be much better than dying. There's only one other victor back in Twelve, and his mind has been so messed up by alcohol that I doubt he'd be much good for company."

"Was he your mentor?" I ask.

"Yeah." Samkin grimaces. "Just him to train both me and my district partner. I think he gave up on us both for dead as soon as he saw us. He spent most of his time drinking."

"Are you sure it's good to talk about him that way? He can hear you, you know, and now he's seen what you're capable of he must know that you're in with a fighting chance. He was probably the one that sent you those daggers."

"I'm not judging him," Samkin says. "I can guess how easy it is to turn to drink as a way out of all of this. Once you've seen things like... like Lecks dying... then you'd try anything to try to wipe that from your mind. In the Career districts there'd be plenty of other victors who'd know what you've been through, they'd help to keep you sane. But for him... it's just him. Alone in that ghost town of a Victors' Village."

"It makes sense," I say. The arena is a horrible place. I can see how the memories would feed on you until there was nothing left. To escape from that, people would try anything, regardless of the consequences.

* * *

**Michael POV**

She's gone. Completely gone. We watched her leave this morning. We had a funeral for her, or as close as you could get to a funeral in the Hunger Games. Dressed in black, we carried her and Yve's bodies out of the castle, then solemnly watched as they were taken away. The claw of the helicopter descended like the hand of some mechanical god and tore her away from the arena. I could barely keep myself from crying as she flew away, back to her family, back to rest.

I feel hollow inside, empty without her. Slumped in an armchair, I stare into the heart of a fire that I know will do nothing to warm me. Watching the flames reminds me of the melancholy pyre that we lit when we burnt the rug she died on. I haven't been back in that room since.

I never got a chance to say goodbye to her. I always thought that I'd be there when she died, to stay by her side and soothe her with words. She died without me. She died alone. We all will.

Does Raquelle hurt as much as I do? Of course she does. From what I could tell, she truly cared for Yve. She killed my friend, but that doesn't make her a monster. It makes her a tribute. A brave tribute, who risked her life for glory. In another district, she'd have made a good Career. I can't help but hate her though. If she feels this pain, then I am glad that I caused it.

I killed again. I did what I told myself I never could do. I could barely think through the anger. It was like when I killed Joard – only when Yve's blood hit my hand did I realise the atrocity of what I'd done. I hadn't even gone after her killer, I'd killed Yve only to hurt Raquelle. That's not me. That's something Howel would do.

Yve had seemed like a good person. At the chariot rides she'd been full of enthusiasm. Ever upbeat in training, she'd even chatted to me for a bit. She was fun, she was likeable, I'm sure she had loads of friends back in her district. Friends that watch me now and wish for me to die. They'll watch Raquelle and cheer her on on her inevitable quest for revenge. The whole of District Seven must hate me now – Joard was from there as well. I wonder if they realise that I'm just a tribute too.

A week in, and it feels like the games have finally begun for me. The castle where I've spent so many happy hours has become my friend's tomb. My mind is haunted by the ghosts of those that I've killed. More spirits will join them. I'll have to kill, at least once more.

I bury my face in my hands.

"I thought you could use this."

I hear a voice behind me and turn around. It's Cerra, still in her dark funeral dress and jacket. She holds two crystal cut glasses and a bottle of wine as red as her lips. I don't say anything as she sits down in another armchair, placing the bottle on a small table between us.

"I'm so sorry," she says softly.

I continue to watch the flames.

"I can only imagine how..." she starts.

"Cerra," I cut her off. "Why are you here?"

"I don't like to see you like this."

"Then don't look at me. Don't even come here."

There's a pause. "You need a friend now, Michael. More than ever."

"Well, she's dead," I mutter.

"Do you ever stop and think that there might be other people that care about you? That she wasn't the only one?"

"Don't you dare do this again," I snap, looking straight at her. Her hand freezes on the way to the wine. "I know what you want. It's still the same answer."

"I'm not that shallow," she spits back. "I'm here because you need me."

"See! You admit it yourself!"

"Not like that! I'm here as your friend. I'm the closest thing you've got to one now that she's dead."

I look away from her and my gaze falls the floor. I sit like that for ages and Cerra says nothing else. I hear the clink of glass as she pours herself some wine. I've never been one to drink. I don't know where she found the wine, I haven't seen any alcohol in the castle.

After a while, I glance up at the clock. I've been still for quarter of an hour. Cerra's still here. Maybe there is some truth in her words. Without looking, I reach for my glass. There's wine in it when I raise it to my lips. It's a strange taste, sweet in some ways, then so bitter that I want to spit it out. But I swallow, and feel my throat tingle.

"Are you feeling all right?" Cerra asks after another pause.

"She's dead, Cerra, do you think I'm all right?" I say, but regret it when I see her shrink back at my words. "I'm sorry, I know you're trying to help." Another sip of wine and it starts to taste better.

"Sometimes you just need to let your feelings out," Cerra says, twirling her glass. "Sometimes it helps to have someone to shout at."

"I don't want to..." I say and I take a sip. "I don't mean to. It's just... she's dead. She was my friend, my brilliant friend, and now she's just gone. Just like that. I hope it was quick. The thought of her lying there, slowly bleeding onto the rug while I slept... what if I could have done something?"

"You killed that girl. That was something."

"Am I meant to be proud of that?" I ask. "She was a tribute, just like us. She..." I stop myself, realising that Cerra still sees me as a true Career. Hopefully the sponsors still do to. Any more of this talk and they'll begin to see the truth. "But it didn't bring her back. Killing Raquelle wouldn't bring her back. No matter what, she's dead now. Anything I could have done, I didn't do."

Cerra leans across and tentatively places a hand on my arm. For the first time, I don't flinch away from her touch.

"Exactly. She was a great person, and she meant a lot to you, to all of us, but she's dead now. And the past is the past. Especially in the games, you can't let your mind stay there. You need to carry on living, carry on fighting, for her."

I nod and finish my glass of wine. Cerra takes it from me and pours me another. We return to the silence, slowly drinking as we stare into the fire. She's dead. But Cerra's still with me. And Abi, and Zozi, and even Howel. They're my allies. They'll support me.

* * *

**Ok, so maybe there was a bit more filler after all.**

**My SYOT is open! If you've reserved a place, fill out the form and send it to me. If you haven't reserved a place, then fill out the form and send it to me anyway. Go go go! I need tributes! Most of the female places have gone now, but if you've been reviewing this fic then you'll get a place no matter what.**

**Note – This fic will continue to update even when I've started the SYOT. I'm not going anywhere :)**


	27. Card Games

_**Day 8**_

**Luck POV**

I watch as the caterpillar drags itself along the branch. It's a strange creature, like all caterpillars. Purple patterns watch me like eyes from its back, and its movement spreads like a ripple along its body. I haven't seen any caterpillar like it before. It could have been specifically made for the games, I guess. The Gamemakers must have an awful lot of time on their hands, in order to perfect such small details of the arena as the insects. Most of their work will never even be seen. No one will be watching and say 'I say! That is a most fine caterpillar! Bravo to the genius that designed that!' No one other than me will even look at this caterpillar.

I always wonder how much control they have over the arena. Do they just set it up and leave to games to play themselves out, or do they really have every single event and variable linked to a switch? I know that we're all their puppets; I'd just like to know how many strings they hold.

With a sigh, I return to my previous task of collecting berries off of the caterpillar's tree. I'm pretty sure they're the same type of berry I ate yesterday. They're a deep midnight blue and are pretty big, somewhere between a raspberry and a strawberry in size. In the Hunger Games, that counts as a decent meal. The juice leaks onto my fingers as I make a small pile of them on my hand. I think I've got past the point that I truly feel hunger any more. I eat because I know that I have to, but the constant growling that occupied my stomach for the first few days has faded into a background rumble.

I reach towards another berry to see that something else has got there first. The caterpillar gradually gnaws at it, though the berry is at least twice the size of it. Then, suddenly, it stops, and completely freezes. Gradually, it folds over and tumbles off of the branch, onto the forest floor below. The berry juice covers it, closing those eyes on its back.

I drop the berries abruptly and wipe the juice that stains my hands onto my clothes. Although the same poisons that affect caterpillars are unlikely to affect humans, I'm not going to take any chances. I've just seen how quickly the poison would act, I'm not going to put one of those berries anywhere near my mouth.

I look down at the caterpillar. However much work was put into designing it, it's dead now. No one will ever notice it. Except me. To me, it's actually served a purpose. Not its intended purpose, but a purpose all the same. That strange little thing could just have inadvertently saved my life.

But it's also cost me my meal for the day. I look back at the berries for a moment, wondering if it's worth taking the risk. Of course it's not. Hands in pockets, I turn and head off into the depths of the forest. It won't be that hard to find food. It's all over the place. I'll just have to find something that I recognise. Then again, I thought I recognised the berries. I'd have trusted them, eaten them without a second thought, and then they could have killed me. I've got to be careful.

**

* * *

**

Abi POV

I watch Michael through the lattice of cards as I carefully place another two on top. I can't let my concentration waver. This has to be one of the biggest card castles I've ever made, with nine pairs forming the base. My hands quiver as I try to make the two cards balance as a triangle. I let go and the next few moments drag by as I wait to see if it'll fall. They hold. I smile and clap my hands together as I lean back away from the tower of cards. Michael stares glumly at it.

Eli's death upset us all. I was inconsolable for an hour as I sobbed into my room. I know that I'm at least partially responsible for her losing that battle. If I had gone straight to Michael rather than being made Zozi's prisoner then we could have made it downstairs on time to fight at her side. But no matter how upset I am about her death, it's nothing compared to Michael. The shadow of depression has fallen over his smile, and hasn't left him since. He's barely spoken to anyone today, except from the occasional groan or complaint about his headache. However sad I am, I need to be strong to support him. I don't want the rest of my time in the castle to feel like I'm trapped in a funeral. I understand the need to mourn, but in the games we just don't have that time.

To make matters worse, Howel is making us hunt today. He let us off last night, but nothing will stop him from dragging us into the arena today. We're not even waiting until the night. He made it clear that we were leaving at half twelve precisely, splitting into girls and boys for our hunting teams. Cerra, Zozi and me will be taking the forest. I don't mind, really. Just getting away from the oppressive atmosphere of the castle will be nice. The thought of Michael left alone with Howel is what worries me. Howel doesn't seem to understand human feelings at all. No, that's a lie. It's clear that he does understand them – he just chooses to ignore them. It must be a strange world inside that twisted mind of his.

Sighing, Michael takes two cards from the remains of the last card castle and places them on top of the new one. He wasn't in the mood to do anything else. We tried to do some of the puzzle, we tried playing card games, but he just wasn't able to focus. I'm amazed at how high we've managed to build the castle. He places the cards so quickly, without care. But somehow they don't fall.

Along the table from us, Cerra works on the puzzle. It's almost done now. I spent most of yesterday working on it, as a way to distract my mind from the brutalities of the morning. It didn't really help. Cerra is more depressed than I thought she would be. I'd seen her and Eli talking occasionally, but they weren't close. Cerra's a proper Career, I didn't think that the death of an ally would affect her this badly.

"Your go," Michael says.

I nod and take another two cards. He glances up, uninterested in what I'm doing as I take several minutes to get the cards to stay in place. With every miniscule movement, the tower shakes. But eventually, adjusting them millimetre by millimetre, I make them stay. That's another layer of cards done.

"Hey, look at this!" Cerra says.

With no enthusiasm, I drag myself out of my chair and wander over to Cerra's side. She points at an area of the map that she's just finished. Leading out of the castle and into the forest are a series of winding tunnels.

"Tunnels," I say, and I can't help but be interested. Could it be that there has been a very important part of the arena beneath our feet this whole time? I trace the line of one with my finger. The tunnels all seem to join at one central cavern and then spread out again. Some worm their ways over to the cliff face, others emerge at cave mouths in the forest.

Cerra nods and beckons Michael over. Reluctantly, he joins us at the map. He doesn't seem quite as impressed as me at the discovery.

"Where do they come from?" he asks.

"I don't know," I say, leaning closer to get a better look at the puzzle. "They all come from the castle, but I don't know how we're meant to get down into them."

"Maybe we're not meant to," Cerra says. "Maybe it's where the Gamemakers are hiding!"

"I'm sure that they don't stay in the actual arena," I say. "Wouldn't that be too dangerous for them? There must be a point to the tunnels."

"Maybe there aren't any tunnels, maybe they're just put on the map to mislead you," Michael says, returning to his seat by the card castle.

"No, I'm sure they're there," Cerra says.

"That trapdoor," I say, pleased with myself. "You know – that one in the room by the kitchen? The one we can't open?"

"But we can't open that," Cerra says. "You just said so."

"Maybe we'll have to, eventually," I say.

Cerra shrugs dismissively and searches in the few remaining pieces for the ones that will finish the map.

"Abi, it's your go," Michael says, and I head back to the card castle.

Fingers trembling, I pick up two more cards. I have to stand and stretch to reach the top of the castle. This layer will only need three card triangles, then there are only two layers on top of that.

"Last piece!" Cerra says excitedly as I place the cards on the pyramid.

Out of the corner of my eye I see her waving the last piece of the puzzle in the air, but I don't turn to watch. I bite my lip in concentration as I balance the cards.

Then an ear-shattering boom fills the air. The room shakes. There's screaming from Cerra, from me. Michael shouts and grabs my arm, pulling me across the table. The castle shatters back into cards that rain around me as he pulls me away from Cerra. My ears ring and I can't focus on anything. I just know that calm has suddenly broken into panic. Michael quickly looks me up and down, checking that I'm okay before running to Cerra and leaving me shaking in his seat. The taste of blood fills my mouth. I must have bitten down on my lip harder than I thought. What on Earth happened?

Then I look towards Cerra and Michael. Where the puzzle was, there is now a hole in the table, dusted with blood and ashes. It must have been a bomb, set to explode when all of the pieces were one. Cautiously, I get up and look over the table. Instantly, nausea fills me and I cover my mouth, biting on my finger to stop myself from screaming. Cerra lies on the floor, cradled in Michael's arms. Her breathing is staggered, her skin pale as tears roll down her cheeks. Although muffled by my temporarily damaged hearing, her screams split the air. They seem almost involuntary. At the end of her right arm, where the manicured hand that held the puzzle piece had been a moment ago, is a bleeding and charred lump of flesh and bone.

Michael is talking, saying things in an attempt comfort her, but I can't focus on his words through the sickness and fear. We lost Eli yesterday, we're not going to lose Cerra today. Not today, we can't. Michael looks up, his gaze snapping onto mine. His voice breaks when he speaks.

"Abi! Get the others! Now!"

"What do I need to get?" I ask, trying to think practically. If I can place all of my attention on something else, like gathering medical supplies, I might be able to block out the truth of what's going on.

"Them! Hurry up!" he yells, his voice choked by tears.

"Try and get her to the hospital," I say quickly, then run out of the room before he has a chance to shout at me again. Before he sees that I'm crying too.

At the start of the games, I never would have thought I would care if Cerra died. She just seemed like a typical Career and a big threat in the arena. Now, although she's got the highest score of the tributes remaining, I'll try my absolute best to save her life. She's my friend. I don't know how much longer she will be – it won't be long before our alliance has to split – but for now, I'm not going to let her die.

Where would they be? I run frantically through the corridors of the castle, yelling Howel and Zozi's names so loudly that my throat aches at the effort. Zozi finds me before I find her. She runs to me, a concerned expression on her face.

"Abi? What's going on? Your lip's bleeding!" She tries to wipe the blood from my face, but only succeeds in smudging it.

"It's Cerra," I say, my voice shaking as much as the rest of me. "There was an explosion… the games room. Her hand, it's…"

Zozi nods, silencing my fragmented words. "I'll get medical supplies. Can you get her to the hospital?"

"I don't think so…" I say.

"Go back to her, now," Zozi says. "Put pressure on the wound, otherwise she'll bleed out."

I nod and run back along the corridor. I race up the stairs and back into the games room, all of my body aching from the exertion. Cerra still lies on the floor, but her shrieks have faded to groans. Her eyes are closed and her body is limp. Her remaining hand grips Michael's tightly. He looks up at me, and now the concern in his eyes is unmistakeable.

"Where are they?" he says. "You said you'd bring them."

"Zozi's coming," I say, kneeling beside him.

I try not to look at Cerra's mutilated arm. The smell of burnt flesh still reaches me and I try not to gag. There's blood everywhere – on Cerra, on Michael, spilling onto the wooden floor.

"They're all dying, Abi," Michael whispers. "Everyone's dying…"

"I'm not dead yet," Cerra manages to say, with the slightest hint of a smile.

"You're not going to die," Michael insists, as much to himself as to her.

She could survive. People have made it out of the games with much worse. She's ambidextrous, so she could still throw knives with her left hand. But her hand is a twisted mound of flesh and her arm is in shreds up to the elbow. There is so much chance for infection to creep in.

Zozi appears in the doorway, first aid kit in hand. She takes one look at the wound then looks over at me.

"You – go and get a fire going wherever you can."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it!" she snaps, running over to Cerra.

Zozi pulls Cerra away from Michael, but her hand stays locked firmly around his. Carefully, Zozi rolls up the remains of Cerra's sleeve and winces when she sees the extent of the damage. With a last glance at Michael, I leave the room again.

Two rooms along is a lounge with a fireplace. I'm in an almost trancelike state as I create the flames. I set fire to the kindling with a match then gradually add logs until there's a nice little fire going. The heat calms me for a moment, but my nerves are torn apart again as a bloodcurdling scream comes from the games room. It was definitely Cerra. I chew on my nails as I stare into the fire. Although I want to go back and check at her, the sight of her injured arm was making me feel physically sick. Zozi would want me to stay by the fire anyway.

"She's in a pretty nasty state, isn't she?"

I don't need to turn around to know that Howel's standing behind me.

"If you're not going to be useful then go away," I say quickly.

"Oh, but I am being useful."

I turn around and jump at the sight of him. He's much closer than I thought he was, and is holding a large axe in his hands. He laughs.

"Zozi wants you to heat this up." He passes me the axe and I wince at the effort of holding it up. It's so heavy, completely metal.

Confused, I stick the axe head into the heart of the fire. Embers spit at me as I disturb the slumbering flames.

Then once again the world is thrown into madness. Michael and Zozi burst into the room, carrying an unconscious Cerra between them. Her arm is completely gone, missing below the elbow. Blood spills from the wound, leaving a trail behind them. I can't control how ill I feel and I make a run for the door, squeezing my eyes shut. They've cut off her arm, they must have done, it wouldn't have just fallen off. I hear a clattering as the axe is pulled from the flames. I understand what they needed it for now, they're cauterising the wound to stop the blood loss. I remain in the corner, blocking out the world. The smell of the burning flesh reaches me again. Howel's laughter cuts across Michael's worried words to Zozi.

It's all too much. I open my eyes and still only see darkness. With the heat of the fire and the stench of blood suffocating me, I tumble towards the floor.

* * *

**I miss writing vaguely happy chapters. From now on, nearly everything is like this chapter. I guess I'm lucky to have had happy chapters at all, it _is _the Hunger Games - everyone should have been depressed and dying since the start.**

**The SYOT is full! The places went so quickly, I thought it would be at least a week or so before I had all of the tributes. I've started writing it now, but I want to get a few chapters done before I start posting it. So it'll start in about two weeks time. There's some really good tributes in it, I hope that you'll read it even if you don't have a tribute in it. :)**


	28. Missed Chances

**Raquelle POV**

Dead...

Dead...

Yve's dead...

I stumble back into the forest, clutching at my injured shoulder. The dried blood stiffens the fabric of my clothes and they crackle at my touch. The bleeding has stopped but it still hurts to move my arm. It's not my sword arm though. That's all right. I can still win.

Last time I was injured, Yve saved me. Last time I walked through these woods, Yve was at my side. Last time I needed a friend, she was there.

There's no one there now.

Just me.

Alone.

Except for the blood on my hands.

I killed that Career. I smile as I remember it. How had I cried when she died? I'd done it, I'd won. I'm a killer now, there's no way to ignore that. Three deaths. Girl at the Cornucopia. One. Career. Two. Yve. Three.

The tears sting at my eyes once again. No... go away. I don't want them here. I can't have them here. Killers don't cry. Killers kill. That's what I need to do. I can wash away tears with blood. Yes. That's right. That's good.

I spin the Career's sword in my hand. It's so much nicer than my old sword. My own blood clings to its blade. I can't wait to quench its appetite for blood, to make cuts as graceful as its blade. I can see it now. I see myself killing that boy. That one that killed Yve. I'll snap his spear, throw his knife to the ground, and drive my sword into his heart.

Then Yve will be happy. Then she can sleep.

"Win, Raquelle." That was the last thing that she said. You've got to honour last wishes. And I will. I'll win these games for Yve.

"Win, Raquelle." It's me who says the words this time. It sounds good. Raquelle Threld – victor.

For Yve, I'll win. In her name, I'll kill. If it would bring her back, I would fill this arena with corpses.

* * *

**Howel POV**

It's good to be out of that castle again. To be back on the paths of the cliff, with the wind rushing through my hair and my daggers ready for blood. Michael doesn't share my enthusiasm. After Eli's death and Cerra's injury, he doesn't seem in a particularly good mood. Good. Let's see if he can channel that anger into something productive. Like killing.

The others thought that I'd let them off of the hunt today, but, of course, I dragged them out kicking and screaming. I can feel Michael's eyes burning into the back of my neck as we traverse the cliff together. Abi and Zozi left to go to the forest, once Abi had regained consciousness. How did she ever manage to kill that girl if she's so squeamish about blood?

I wish Cerra had died. She's my biggest threat in the games, other than Zozi. She's lightning fast with her blades and won't hesitate to put one in my skull. Even with one hand missing, she's still a formidable opponent. But she's alive, much to the relief of the others.

Michael and I head up the cliff together for a while, in absolute silence the whole way. Good, I prefer it to insubstantial chit-chat. I'm not sure if it's sadness or fear of me that silences Michael. Either way, he's weak. I really had thought that he'd be one of the strong ones. It's a bit of a shame really. We could have turned on the others together. Now, eventually, he'll just be another victim of my dagger.

If we don't find any other tributes, then it could well be his body that I leave in the caves.

* * *

**Luck POV**

I can't believe I've survived this long, to tell the truth. I had a lovely little lunch of nuts and berries – the non-poisonous kind – while surrounded by my woodland friends. Woodland friends that probably want to kill me, mind you, but for now they're pretty cute. I find mutations fascinating. This mastery of DNA, the ability to create new life, is both wondrous and terrifying at the same time. Some mutations might contain human DNA. I don't put it past the Capitol to use their prisoners in that way, after seeing the Avoxes. These creatures were never meant to exist, but they do. To have the power to do that, to create, is close to godlike. I don't know who I'm more scared of – those who can breathe life like the scientists, or those who can steal it like Howel.

A rustling comes from somewhere in the bushes. I jump, but convince myself that it was just a squirrel or something. I turn away, but then I hear the sound again. It's not just the rustle of leaves; it's the crack of twigs under foot. There's someone there, or a big mutt. Neither of those options are particularly good. I walk away from the sound but it follows me through the forest. I break into a run, as fast as I can go. I trip on a root and go hurtling towards the ground. I yelp as I crash into the earth. Mud stains my hand and I look over my shoulder. Two figures approach from the undergrowth. I gasp as I see who it is.

Aiming an arrow at my head is Zozi Dowl, her eyes cold and harsh. I have no doubts that she'll release that bow string. But next to her is another girl, slightly taller than her. I barely recognise her at first. Her light brown hair is tied into a practical ponytail. Rather than the standard arena uniform, she wears a long black jacket and a purple top with silver embroidery around the neckline. In her hands are two elegant, curving daggers. I look up into the eyes of Abigayl Dowl, and for a moment see a glimpse of compassion, but her face is as stern as her sisters. When Zozi lived in Three, I could never see any similarities between her and Abi. But now, except for Zozi's glasses and their differing hair colour, they look almost identical. And they both look like Careers.

I open my mouth to speak, but all that escapes my lips is a whimper. That's Abi, but it's not the same girl from my district. Is it the same girl that I love? Is she with the Careers now, or did Zozi break away from the Career group to protect her sister? There's so much I don't understand, and so much that I never will now.

"Be quick," I manage to say.

"No," Abi says, her voice wavering slightly. "Zozi – don't."

Zozi lowers her bow slightly. "Are you going to do it then?"

Abi glances between Zozi and me, and then her gaze falls to the ground. "He's from our district."

"He's in the games."

"But he's Luck..." Abi looks straight at me, meeting my eyes. Does she know how I feel? I'm not sure it's better if she does or doesn't.

Just seeing her again makes me happy, despite the situation. To see that she's strong makes me feel kind of proud. She can win these games. I'd just prefer it if she didn't kill me. But, then again, I'd known that this moment was coming since I was reaped. I'd never have thought that it would be Abi on the other end of the blade though.

With a sigh, Abi walks over to me, adjusting her grip on the daggers. There's fear in her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. I can see the blades tremble in her hands. Zozi keeps the arrow aimed at me, ready to fire if I try to run.

"Let her kill me," I say, as confidently as I can manage.

"No," Abi says quietly. "I have to."

"Why?" I ask. She's close to me now, her dagger edging ever closer to my throat.

"Because I have to prove that I can," she says.

"Hurry up," Zozi snaps.

Abi doesn't look away from my eyes as I feel the cold metal of the dagger stroke my throat. My life is measured in seconds. I close my eyes. The metal leaves my neck and I breathe in deeply, waiting for her to bring it down again.

I could tell her. Right now – it's my last chance. But that would make it harder for her to kill me. This is something that she has to do. I might not understand her reasons, but I can tell that she feels that she needs to kill.

Eight days. That's a pretty good lifespan for a tribute.

"I can't."

I open my eyes. Abi's turned to face Zozi, leaving me shaking on the forest floor.

"Then I will." Zozi pulls back on the bowstring.

"No!" Abi shouts. "Zozi, he's from our district. I... we can't just kill him like this."

"You'll have to eventually."

"I know, but not now. I'll kill anyone else, the next person we find! But not Luck. I can't. Not yet."

Zozi looks from her sister to me. She seems unimpressed.

"If I kill him, or if you kill him, then we'll be hated in our own home," Abi says. "Look at him." She gestures towards me. "He's not going to last long. Wait for the arena to kill him. Just don't let me do it, because I won't let you."

She glances back at me and bites her lip. I can only imagine how pathetic I look to her. Zozi glares at us both, and I think that she's about to shoot me anyway. Then she lowers her bow.

"Get out of here, Barnsey," she snaps. "Because I swear, the next time I see your miserable little face, it will be the last time you breathe. I've already let you off once. This is the last time. So, if you value your life, you insect, you'll run."

For a moment I stare at her from the ground, then she yells again. "Get out!"

With a last look at Abi, I scramble to my feet and run off into the forest. I keep on running, farther and farther away until I'm completely lost. I left her. I had another chance to tell her and I didn't. If I live to see her again, then I'll die, either at her hands or her sister's. I should have told her, to get those three words out of my heart before my death. But I'm just a coward.

* * *

**Uwel POV**

"Be careful with that thing! You could hurt someone!" Samkin shouts.

"I thought the whole point," I say, lunging at him with the knife again.

"Not in training!" Samkin easily avoids my clumsy blow. He spins around, and the next thing I know his knife is at my neck. "And I'd win. Again."

"I'm getting better though," I say with a laugh, pushing his knife away from me. I know he'd never attack me for real, but having the blade that close to me does make me feel a bit nervous.

"You're still not being careful enough," Samkin says. "Your attacks are wild and you forget about guarding yourself. Always be ready to defend."

"How am I supposed to win then?"

"You can still attack, just be ready to defend. Either have your knife close enough to you that you could bring it back to parry, or don't lose your balance so you can evade attacks. That last attack – you were on one leg! There's no way you could have dodged an attack without stumbling."

"Sorry," I say. "Again?"

"Yeah, all right."

We start to spar again, and, little more than a minute into the fight, Samkin kicks my legs out from beneath me. The breath is knocked out of me as I slam into the ground. With a sigh, Samkin holds out a hand to help me up.

"Balance, again," he says.

I rub my back as I stand. "I get the point. There's just so much to pay attention to."

"It's difficult, I'll admit that," Samkin says. "Just hope that if you ever end up in a fight it's against someone even less experienced than you. Careers will have trained like this their whole life. Remember, they won't be stopping their attacks like I am."

"I know that," I say, and realise that I must sound like a bratty pupil talking back to a teacher. "Thanks for helping with this, by the way."

"No problem, you need it," Samkin says. "Shall we take a break now?"

"Yeah, that sounds..."

Then the ground begins to rumble. It gradually starts to shake beneath my feet. At first I think I must have hit my head, but it shakes so much that I can't be imagining it.

"What's going on?" I shout to Samkin over the drone of the moving earth.

"I don't know," Samkin calls back. "But getting out of here sounds like a good idea."

I nod, and follow him as he runs out of the cave. He stops abruptly when he turns a corner. Silhouetted in the cave mouth, the light spilling in behind them, are two Careers. I swear that my heart stops for a moment as Howel steps forward into the cave so I can see his face. Last time I saw that face, I was convinced I was going to die. The smirk on his lips is just a hint of the sadistic grin he wore when torturing me. Rather than a dart, there is a jagged dagger in his hand. I won't resign myself to death this time. I will fight.

Michael from District Four stands beside him, his spear at the ready. Samkin's gaze zips between the two as he tries to work out which he'll choose as his target in the unavoidable fight.

"Well, isn't this a lovely reunion?" Howel says with a spin of his dagger. I wonder how many tributes have been killed by it.

"You killed her," I say quietly.

"What was that?" Howel asks, mock interest on his face.

"You killed her!" I grip my knife tightly.

"Her? Oh, that girl. You're not still upset about that, are you?"

"I loved her," I say, my voice stained by tears. "And you took her from me."

"Uwel..." Samkin says in a warning tone, but I ignore him.

"And now, Howel Sela, I'm going to kill you."

"I'd like to see you try."

And he does. Unstable on the shaking ground, I charge at him with a shout. I swing my knife at his head but he dodges as easily as Samkin did. I can already see that he isn't as quick as my ally. I might actually stand a chance.

"Duck!" Samkin shouts and I obey.

Two blades cross over my head. A blow from Howel, and a thrown knife from Samkin. Howel swears as he barely manages to avoid the knife. It skims across his shoulder, cutting the jacket but not the skin. I sweep up with my blade, but pull my blow slightly. I leave a gash across his chest, but it only just cut the skin. Damn it, why do I have to be so frightened of the fight? I had a chance at killing him then.

"Michael!" Howel shouts. "Distract him."

For a split second, Howel's attention is on Michael. The other boy seems reluctant to fight, but nods and runs towards Samkin. I can't see how Samkin fights though; I need to remain focused on Howel. Samkin will be all right though, I'm sure he will be.

Howel's knife swings towards me and I parry it with my own. The blades clash and remain locked until we simultaneously break away. Now I take initiative. I slash at his arm. He dodges and attacks simultaneously, but I'm ready to parry again. With each unsuccessful attack, Howel grows more and more irritated. His moves become more and more frantic as he desperately tries to score a hit. I keep in mind Samkin's lessons, keeping my knife close to me. Howel doesn't seem to have been taught in the way that I was. His attacks are wild and reckless. I can use that against him.

I duck another attack and swing my leg out. I hook around his leg and drag him off balance. He collapses and I pin him to the ground as he cries out from shock and pain. Taking advantage of his moment of weakness, I tear his dagger from his hand and throw it across the cave floor. Behind me, Samkin and Michael are still locked in combat. I look down at Howel as he tries to escape from me. He's as thin as a stick; it doesn't take much to hold him down. My heartbeat races and I feel slightly ill. This is it. I'm going to kill Howel. I'm going to avenge Hero's death.

I prepare to drive my knife into his throat, but then I realise something. This is how Howel felt at the Cornucopia. Then, it was me writhing in his grasp. Now, the tables are turned. Did he feel this rush of adrenaline, this strange sensation of power? The victim powerless, the torturer playing with their life. I remind myself that this is nothing like that. I was completely defenceless at the bloodbath, and completely innocent. This is Howel, a vicious killer. Hero's murderer. I beat him in a fair fight.

"I thought you said you'd kill me," Howel says with a smirk.

"I will," I say, to assure myself more than anything.

Howel laughs and I silence him by pressing the flat of the blade to his throat.

"You don't have it in you. You're a kid, not a killer. There's a very big difference between the two."

"Shut up!"

"You know it's the truth. If you want to prove me wrong then go ahead, stab me."

So I do. I bring my knife down, but he rolls out of the way. I must have accidentally loosened my hold on him while he distracted me. The tip of the knife slams into the cold rock of the cave, bending as it does so. Howel's laughter echoes around the cavern.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!" he says, almost happily.

Samkin yells my name, and then I feel an agonising pain in my back. I breathe in sharply and my eyes water. A knife, deep in my flesh, the handle in Howel's hand. How did he... his dagger's all the way over there... then I realise. It's Samkin's knife. Howel must have been able to reach it. Laughing as I cry out in pain, he rolls us over. Now it's him pinning me. He yanks the knife from my back. It hurts even more than when it went in. Every second is torturous. I look up into his eyes and he grins.

"This is more like it," he remarks. "Order restored. I must say, I'm surprised at how much you've improved."

I can barely focus on his face, my tears obscure my vision. Pain makes black dots dance into my eyes, threatening to consume my sight.

"Should I make this quick? Or should I make you beg for death? You know which one I'd prefer, but I must admit, you've been good entertainment already."

I strain to look over his shoulder. Samkin tries to aim a knife at his back, but Michael keeps attacking him. He doesn't have the chance to save me. Howel grabs me by my hair and pushes me down again. I look up into his face. He's not as happy as he was at the Cornucopia. The blood that coats his chest may have something to do with that. I manage a slight smile. I won't die crying. I won't give him that.

Hero, I'm so sorry. I didn't kill him. I had the chance, and I missed it. Samkin will kill Howel, I'm sure of it.

Pain stabs as Howel drags his knife across my face. But I don't scream. This is it, he's finally going to kill me like he wanted to at the Cornucopia. I will not scream. I'm stronger than I was at the bloodbath, I'll not let him see my pain.

All of a sudden, a spear flies through the air and pierces my chest. The pain is excruciating, worse than the dagger in the back. As the blood leaks out, I feel myself gradually fading into darkness.

"Damn, missed," I hear Michael say. He sounds so distant.

"No! He's my kill! Mine!" Howel screams, cutting over Michael.

I can vaguely make out his face in the darkness. Then the dagger plunges into my throat and there's nothing.

* * *

**Although he seems to be the least popular character on the poll, Uwel was always one of my favourites :( Actually, they're all my favourites. I hate killing any of them.**

**Thanks so much for all of the reviews I've had recently! You're all amazing :)**


	29. Monster

**Warning: Violence. It's almost as bad as the rat chapter.**

* * *

**Michael POV**

"Damn, missed," I say as my spear impales Uwel. Hopefully Howel will think I was aiming for Samkin. I wasn't. I was aiming for him.

A cannon fires as Howel deals the final blow. I spin back around to face my opponent. Samkin's good, he's really good. He's so quick I can barely keep up with him. I think that the only way I've got this far without damage is because he's been distracted by the other fight. I haven't been on the offensive in this fight – I've been defending myself. I don't want to kill Samkin, but I don't think that I'd have been able to even if I was trying to.

Howel stands up, and there's an anger burning in his eyes even stronger than before. He thinks I stole his kill. When he readies his blood covered dagger, I'm not sure if it's Samkin or me that he's targeting.

But there's something far more important than the fight that has somehow gone unnoticed. The shaking floor. I thought it was just an earthquake to throw us off in our fight, but it turns out that it's something much worse. I look towards the cave mouth and see that it's half blocked by boulders. More continue to fall, quickly consuming our exit.

"Oh crap," I whisper.

Howel looks between us and the falling rocks, and I can tell that it's actually taking him a while to work out which he should run for. Common sense manages to conquer the bloodlust and he darts for the exit. He climbs out quickly, vaulting through the slim gap just as another boulder slams down. He was closer to the cave mouth than I am. I don't get there on time. The last few rocks slam down, leaving me in darkness.

The fight is long forgotten. Samkin and I scrabble at the rocks, but I can tell that they're not going to budge.

"Howel!" I yell as loudly as can.

"Ah, you're still alive," the muffled reply comes.

"Can you help us out?" I ask, trying not to let the infuriating voice wind me up.

"It's completely blocked," Howel says. "You're going to have to find your own way back to the castle."

I beat against the rocks with my fists. My hands are already raw and stinging. With a shout of frustration, I sink to the ground, my back to the new wall. Tiny scraps of light manage to break through gaps in the rock, and I can make out the figure of Samkin kneeling beside Uwel's body. Another tribute has lost a friend in these games.

"Why did you throw the spear?" he asks, his tone solemn.

"Does it matter?" I reply.

"What you say now will determine whether or not we resume our fight."

What now? I think Samkin could tell that my heart wasn't in fighting. Do I tell him that, or do I lie, fight and kill like the Career that I'm meant to be? I take a deep breath. "I threw it because I know Howel." I lower my voice, in case Howel is still listening on the other side of the rockslide. "You don't have to be psychic to know what he was planning to do. Uwel didn't deserve that death. No one does."

"So you killed him anyway? To save him from a worse fate?"

I feel like I'm being interrogated. This is wrong, I'm the attacker here. "I didn't aim to kill _him_. Your attack threw me off balance and I missed my target."

There's a silence. There. I've told the truth.

"So, truce?" I say hopefully.

"Yeah," Samkin says, standing up. "Truce."

It's an awkward armistice. Just a moment ago, we were fighting, and we're going to spend however long we're trapped in this cave waiting for one of us to break the peace and attack again. Samkin's friend lies dead, my spear in his chest. But for now, we're on equal ground. Neither of us have an ally and both of us want to get out of this cave. So, for the time being, it makes sense to work together.

"Is there any other way out?" I ask, without much hope.

"Not that I... hang on. There's a well, at least I think it's a well, a bit further into the cave."

"By well, do you mean: hole in the ground?"

"Indeed."

"And you're suggesting that we jump down this hole, just in case there's a way out?"

"I think I am."

"Well, it's the only plan we've got."

"Are you seriously considering this?"

"I plan on seriously accomplishing this."

Samkin laughs, but there's still a bitter edge to his voice. "We could die."

"We'll die if we stay here."

"There's some food..."

"Then what will we do, hope that we can wait out the games? You know that the Gamemakers won't allow that."

"So we're going to jump, perhaps to our deaths?"

"It was your idea. And yeah, that's the plan."

I think I catch a smile from Samkin. "Then I'm in. I think."

"That's the spirit."

I follow Samkin through the cave to where he'd had his camp set up. Under the light of the blue crystals in the walls, he packs his bag and slings it onto his back. I glimpse tracks of tears on his cheeks as he turns to face me.

"Why aren't you trying to kill me? You're a Career."

"Same question to you," I say with a shrug. "You're clearly as good as me with a knife."

"But I'm not a Career..."

"What difference should that make? Now come on, we've got a well to jump down."

Samkin looks like he's about to say something else, but he only gestures for me to follow him. Warning me to be careful, he shows me towards the hole in the middle of the cavern. There's only darkness down it. I'm beginning to question the logic of our plan, but why would the Gamemakers put the well here if they didn't want us to go down it? Maybe to lure us to our deaths, but I doubt that. That's the kind of thing that they'd do to weak tributes that had survived by chance, not to two of the favourites to win. I peer into the darkness, my toes at the edge of the pit. I hope its deep enough that I'd die on impact. Well, really I hope that there's a soft landing so I don't die at all. That'd be nice.

"So, how's this going to work?" Samkin asks.

I grin at him. "Like this."

Without hesitation, I jump into the pit.

* * *

**Raquelle POV**

The cannons have been firing more frequently now. We used to go for days without hearing one. Looks like those games are over. The new games have begun, the games as they should be. A twisted gauntlet of a games, but the right games. I had been playing wrong before. I'd forgotten the rules. I won't make that mistake again. It was that girl's fault – Yve. She tried to keep me from the games.

I miss her so much. I miss her smile in the morning, her – often bad – food cooking over the fire, the conversations that would keep us awake at night. She's gone now. All gone.

Taken from me by that Career. Michael. He killed her, and I'll kill him. I hope that girl I killed was his friend. I hope he loved her! I hope he feels a fraction of the pain I feel.

I killed again. I shouldn't have. I didn't realise how horrible it would be. Even if she was a Career, she's still a human being. And that girl at the Cornucopia... what was she, thirteen, fourteen? I can't even label her as a Career, there's no way that I can justify that kill. I'm a monster.

That's what I have to be. That's how I win. People don't win the games. People are too weak. It's the monster that sleeps within us all that wins. The one that longs for blood, that needs it to live. Once it's tasted blood, it only wants more, more, more...

I cry so much. I suddenly break down in tears and collapse on the forest floor. The tears disappear as quickly as they come, and I forget why they were there. I cry for all of them, for the Career, for the girl, for Yve. Especially for Yve.

Yve who I will kill for. Again and again until there's no one else left.

Let her memory rest in peace. No amount of blood will bring her back, no matter how much I want it to.

She'd have wanted it, she'd have wanted me to avenge her.

She was peaceful – she'd never have hurt a fly! Just injuring that Career tore her apart. She'd want flowers on her grave, not the skulls of her enemies.

Then I'll forget her. I'll let her memory die like the rest of her. I'll fight for me, I'll kill for me. I'll play this game by the rules. I'll win. But then there will be no one left to kill...

"So, what are we going to do about dinner?"

I freeze at the sound of the words. They're faint through the forest, but they're there. It's a tribute, another tribute! Another kill for me.

Readying my sword, I follow the sound of the voice. Then another speaks! Two of them – it's my lucky day! Who could it be? I don't mind. Whoever it is, I'll kill them. But how? There's so much I can do with a sword. A stab would just be boring. A decapitation could be fun. I can almost feel the blood on me as I think about it. I'll bathe in the stuff. I'll cover myself in blood until there's no skin left to see. To be a monster, it would help if I looked like one.

The bloody phantom of my former self will stalk these forests.

I stop when the tributes come into sight. I can see them through the trees, but they haven't spotted me yet. I think I'm seeing double, but then I remember the twins. They're still alive? I could have sworn they were dead. But there they are – the boy and the girl, sitting by the edge of a pool. They chat and laugh together as if I wasn't there.

And I realise where they are. It's my pool, where I spent the past week with Yve. They shouldn't be there! This is my place, my home. Memories flood me. Every moment we spent here that felt like a moment wasted. I'd give anything to get those days back.

No! Tears, go away! I don't want you! I don't need you!

Unable to bear the salty sting in my eyes a moment longer, I charge out of the bushes. I grin as I see the shocked looks on their faces. The boy yelps and the girl jumps in front of him, her tiny knife held out in front of her. When she sees my blade her eyes widen. A large scar surrounds one of them. I can't remember that being there before.

"Leave!" she shouts, but her voice wavers.

She's scared, she's so scared. This will be a new kind of kill. The girl at the Cornucopia had no idea what was coming. The Career was just as strong as me. These kids know that they're going to die. Their fear will make this glorious.

Smile still glued to my face, I slash out at the girl. But it's not her that my sword finds. Instead, a line of blood appears on the boy's chest.

"Cray!" the girl yells and I laugh.

The boy grits his teeth against the pain. "Rhian! Run!"

"I need to stay..."

"You need to win."

Enough talking. I slash again. The blade bites deep into his arm and he cries out in pain.

"We both knew it'd be you who wins," he says, choked by tears.

"Cray, I can't leave you."

"Run!"

"Yes, Rhian, run!" I say. Words sound strange. I haven't spoken for so long.

Another blow sends him sprawling. Rhian screams and lashes at me with her knife. I duck with a laugh.

"Get out of here!" Cray yells.

Tears spilling down her cheeks, Rhian stares at Cray. "I love you," she whispers.

She turns and runs off into the forest. I consider following her, but the boy is just so tempting. He struggles to stand, and then a kick to his chest throws him back down. He raises a hand to cover his eyes as I stride over to where he lies. I've let one tribute get away. I'll make this kill worth that sacrifice.

My sword slices neatly into his stomach and he screams. It's almost musical. I laugh gleefully. Crouching down, I shove on his shoulder and he rolls onto his back, crying out again.

"What are you?" he says, his voice tortured by rasping breaths.

"A monster," I reply with a grin.

"You..." He shudders and his eyes close. His head slumps backwards onto the ground. Somewhere in the sky, a cannon fires. A body now lies where Yve slept.

He's dead. No. There wasn't enough blood! That can't be it! He's still alive – he's tricking me! I won't fall for this trick.

I plunge my sword into his chest again and again. It grates against bone and cuts through flesh. Blood floods out, my reward. I throw my sword to one side and push my hands down on his chest. Like a water pump, it calls forth more blood, more warm blood spilling over me. I giggle and rub the blood onto my arms. The scraps of skin and fabric tickle as I wash my hands in the pooling blood. Then I raise my hands to my face and stroke the blood over my cheeks and forehead. An unholy baptism of this new me.

The claw descends from the trees and tries to tear my prey from me. I'm not done yet! I grab at his limp leg, trying to pull him back down. But it's no use. The mechanical hand is stronger, and Cray flies away. His blood still drips down on me like rain.

It runs into the pond and dances around the lilies. I feel a stab of sadness as I watch the light reflect on the water. I spent so much time here, with Yve.

But the feeling vanishes in the blink of an eye. Laughing, I pick up my bloodied sword and head off into the forest after Rhian.

I feel nothing as I leave the pond behind me forever.

* * *

**... ****Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry! I feel so evil :( At the time of posting this, Raquelle and Cray were top of the poll as well... You all hate me, don't you? I hated writing this, I loved both of their characters.**

**I really hope that this didn't feel too sudden. Raquelle's decline into insanity did happen very quickly, but I didn't want to stretch it out for too long. I have been hinting at a mad Raquelle since the beginning, so hopefully this wasn't too unexpected. Please let me know what you think about it (and please don't kill me...)**

**I am going to restart the poll when we get to the final eight, so much has changed in the story since the poll began.**


	30. Defend or Destroy

**Rhian POV**

The sound of the cannon firing sends the world into slow motion.

Cray Stonat was an amazing person. He was gifted in so many ways, but it was his artistic talent that really shone. In the Capitol he'd have been famous. His work would have sold for millions. Even in District Eight his gift would have led him to success. He could have designed fabrics or clothes. He would have been one of the richest people in the district. He could have got through life without spending a single day in one of those horrible factories.

But his artistic skill wasn't the only thing that made him brilliant. It was hard to feel depressed around Cray. His smile could warm the coldest of hearts. He was well loved by everyone, and loyal to his family and friends. So loyal that he'd do anything for them, including volunteering for the games, just so that they would keep smiling.

He was amazing. Intelligent, likeable – the light in a dark district. He was what the people of Panem need to be. He stood up to the Capitol; he looked them in the eye. He didn't need a weapon to do it, just his smile.

Compared to me, he was a genius. I was going to be a factory worker. I didn't shine. If you asked anyone which of the Stonat twins should live, they'd have chosen Cray. But he could never have won the games, not on his own. This was the one place where I could have been the better twin. I was going to protect him until the end, and then take my own life. He'd have hated me for it, but he'd have lived, and that was all that mattered to me.

He'd have got over me eventually, and he'd have lived his life. He'd have been free to paint and create without having to worry about earning a living. He'd have trained the next few lots of tributes well, but would have stopped being a mentor eventually. I'm not sure he'd have been able to handle it. He'd have become too attached to the tributes. Eventually, he would have got married to a beautiful wife, had children – one of which he'd have named after me. He'd have planted flowers outside that house in Victors' Village, and he'd have been happy.

He could have done so much. He could have been anything. But that girl stole it all from him.

I want to break down and cry, but I force myself to carry on running. That girl looked insane. She's probably chasing me right now. I can't let her catch me. Cray sacrificed himself for me to live. I have to win now. There's no other option.

Rhian Stonat runs through the forest, tripping and stumbling frequently, blinded by the tears that bleed from her eyes. When she has run far enough, she collapses beside a stream. She cries tears into it and surrounds herself with memories of her brother. There are so many tears. She cries until she has no more left. Then she just stares, but doesn't really see. She's hollow now, without him.

And through it all, I watch her. I'm broken by ripples in the stream, but I'm always there. The girl with the scar. Her eyes meet mine. She doesn't want me to be real, but she knows that I am. I'm there in every mirror, in every puddle, in this stream. I'm her reflection.

Rhian Stonat is dead. She died with her brother. It's me, the girl with the scar, who will win the games.

**

* * *

**

**Michael POV**

The rush of air against my face as I plummet downwards is as exhilarating as it is terrifying. Above me, Samkin yells something, but I can't make it out. The fall is long, and the walls of the well zip by me so quickly. There's nothing but darkness around me.

Then I hit the ground and sink into it. No – not ground – it's water. It slams against me, sending shock through my body, but I swim to the surface. I gasp for air as my head breaks out of the underground lake. Around me is a huge cavern, the biggest yet. The blue crystals glitter in the walls, casting an eerie light onto the water. The entire cavern is drowned, full of water. I can't see the bottom of the pool as I tread water. And, more importantly, I can't see a way out.

There's a scream above me which grows louder and louder. I swim out of the way just in time as Samkin crashes into the lake. He doesn't surface again. Shoving my glasses into my pocket, I take a deep breath and dive down. I grab Samkin's hand and pull him to the surface. He drinks the air hungrily as he frantically kicks to stay afloat. I continue to support him so that he won't sink.

"Can't you swim?" I ask.

"Does it look like I can?"

It always surprises me when people can't swim. Everyone can swim in District Four, we have to. Lots of us spend more time in the water than out of it. I'm not the strongest swimmer in the district, but I'm still very good.

"Just try to stay calm," I say. "All this flapping around will get you nowhere."

He nods and looks around the cavern. "Looks like our escape plan didn't really work."

"Well, we're still alive, aren't we? Try to look on the bright side."

"So we'll drown instead of starve?"

"There's got to be a way out," I say.

Samkin doesn't look convinced. I look down into the dark abyss of water that swirls beneath me. Maybe there's something down there. The Gamemakers don't want me dead, they want to test me. But I can't dive now. I need to stay with Samkin, otherwise he'll drown. The pool doesn't get any shallower around the edges, there's nowhere that his feet will reach the bottom. But the walls are rough and craggy. I'm sure he could find handholds.

"Hold onto me," I say.

He looks confused, but follows my instruction. He's quite light and I can swim while supporting his weight. The pool is wide, but eventually we reach the edge. Samkin grabs hold of the rocky wall to support him and manages to stay afloat. I push away and drift back into the lake.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"I'm going to search the lake," I say.

He nods and I dive down. The water's quite clear, but the lack of light makes it hard to see. I swim down, down, down, but there's still no glimpse of the bottom of the pool. Above me, I can't see the surface of the water any more, and there's nothing around me. It's strangely calm. This must be what floating in space feels like. My lungs strain for air and I realise I'm running out of time. I kick my way back to the surface. I blink as my eyes readjust to the light. Samkin's not where I left him. Panicking, I call his name. Is he underwater?

"Up here," he shouts back.

I look up to see him sitting on a ledge of rock. I laugh – he must have climbed the wall. He's soaked to the skin and water drips from his clothes and hair.

"Anything up there?" I call.

He shakes his head. "You found anything?"

"Not yet – it's a big pool."

With that, I dive again. This time, I see it. Far away, at the edge of the pool, a glowing crystal in the rocks. Its dim blue light barely cuts through the water, but it's a shining beacon in the darkness. I propel myself towards it, swimming quickly. I reach it and smile to myself. The crystal is imbedded in the rock above the entrance to a tunnel. The way out. I still can't see the bottom of the lake though, and there's no way to tell how long the tunnel is. From what I can see there are more of the crystal lights along it, evenly spaced every few metres. I would go in and investigate, but I can tell that I'm running out of air. I swim back to the surface once more.

"Found it!" I shout excitedly to Samkin.

"Found what?" he calls back.

"A way out! There's a tunnel down here. Can you make your own way round or do you need my help?"

"I'll climb," he says.

If I'm a fish in water, then he's a spider on the ledges. I watch, fascinated as he climbs and crawls his way round the edge of the lake. He finds impossible handholds that I can't see as he scurries towards me. When he's back in the water, that dexterity vanishes and is replaced by a flailing of limbs to stay afloat. I support him again and he clings onto the rock. I can just about swim with him, but can I dive with him? There's only one way to find out.

"Are you ready?" I ask and he nods. "You're going to need to take a really deep breath. Whatever you do, don't panic. I've got no idea how long we'll be underwater for."

Trying to calm my own racing heartbeat, I breathe in deeply. Then I dive, dragging him behind me like a ball and chain around a prisoner's leg. We reach the mouth of the tunnel, and I gesture to him that we're going in. I don't have time to waste in waiting for a response. With my hand grasping his arm, I swim onwards. He does nothing at first, but eventually starts to kick his feet, which helps to drive him forward. He still slows me down greatly. Ahead of me, the tunnel stretches onward with no end in sight. My lungs are beginning to hurt. With the threat of death pushing me on, I kick faster. I push myself from the rock walls for extra boosts of speed. Preying on my mind is the fact that if I abandoned Samkin I could reach the end quicker. But I'm not going to do that. In exchange for the lives I've ended, I'm going to save one.

When my lungs scream for air, I finally see the end of the tunnel. It's a dead end, a solid wall of rock. No – it can't be. I glance behind me to check Samkin's still swimming. He is, but neither of us has enough air left to make it back to the lake. I reach the wall and look up. As I thought, there's a smaller tunnel leading up off of this one. Frantically beating the water with my feet, I swim upwards.

My head feels light and I'm dizzy. I won't drown. District Four tributes don't drown.

Then I surface, and the air that floods my lungs is sweet. I pull Samkin up beside me and he gasps for the air.

"Thank you," he says between breaths.

I smile, too weak for words at the moment.

We're in another cave, but the pool only takes up half of this one. It's much shallower – our feet reach the floor – and it slopes upwards onto a small beach. Beyond the beach, outside the gaping cave mouth, is sunlight. The cave is right at the bottom of the cliff, and the long grass of the field dances just outside. We cheer weakly, but the smiles on our faces show just how happy we really are. We stumble up the beach and collapse just outside the cave mouth. The heat of the sun warms our drenched clothes and stops me from shivering.

"I never thought a Career would save my life," Samkin says.

"We're not all like Howel," I say. "You're just as talented as a Career, but you're not out there hunting, are you?"

Samkin shrugs. "Even if I was born in District Two I wouldn't have been a Career. I decided at the moment that I was reaped that I'd try to use my abilities for good, try to protect the weaker tributes. That plan hasn't worked well so far."

"I'm sorry about Uwel," I say. "I know what it's like to lose a friend."

Samkin nods. I can see the sorrow in his eyes as he thinks about his friend. I climb to my feet and pull him up. He's still got most of his knives and his backpack is secure on his shoulders. I check my glasses are safe in my pocket. The world comes into focus again as I put them on.

I hear the sound of a helicopter above me. I run further into the field to get a better look, and gasp as I see what happens. The top of the cliff opens up and the claw reaches down into it. A limp figure is in its grasp as it emerges. The cliff closes again and the figure is pulled into the heart of the helicopter.

"They got him out," Samkin says. "Thank goodness, I was worried he was trapped in there."

In the distance, I see another helicopter above the forest. What? Did someone else die? I guess we might not have heard the cannon underwater. That makes nine tributes. One more and we're down to the final eight. That means that over half of the remaining tributes are Careers. How long will it be until we have to split up? It can't be long now. The final eight will probably be the trigger that kills our alliance.

"You know, Michael, if you don't want to be a Career any more, then we could team up," Samkin says.

I seriously consider his offer. We get on well, and would make a good team. When I think of the Careers, I think of Howel. If they were all like him, I'd gladly break away. But they're not. There's Zozi, and Abi, who's barely a Career anyway, and Cerra. I don't want to abandon them until I have to. And staying in the castle isn't a bad thing either.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can leave them," I say. "If they were different, then I'd definitely say yes."

Samkin nods curtly. I feel bad about not agreeing to team up. I'm so close to saying yes, but I don't want to turn my back on my friends.

"See you at the finale then," he says with a smile.

"Yeah," I say, looking over to the castle. It's a long way away and it's quite late in the day. I should be able to get back before it's completely dark. I look back at Samkin. "Good luck."

"Likewise."

I feel we should shake hands or something, but instead we just smile and turn our backs on each other. I start towards the castle and Samkin heads in his own direction – towards the forest. I can't help but feel that I should have been more like him. I should be protecting other tributes, not attacking them. And I will, from now on. I think I decided that when I threw the spear at Howel.

**

* * *

**

**Abi POV**

I'm the one by Cerra's bedside when she finally wakes up. She's been unconscious all day, but hasn't shown any signs of sickness. For someone who's just had their arm cut off, she looks incredibly healthy. The moon's light drifts in through the window as she stirs. Her eyes flutter open and settle on me.

"Good to see you're awake," I say, with the most convincing smile I can manage.

"Doesn't feel good," Cerra croaks. "Do you know what it's like not having an arm? Well it hurts."

"You'll be all right."

"I know that. It's just painful. Oh well, I can win with one hand."

She tries to sit up, but grimaces and collapses back against her pillow. I can tell that she's infuriated by how useless she feels. She looks around the room, wincing as she accidentally moves her arm.

"Is Michael here?" she asks.

I bite my lip. I can't answer that question. When Howel returned back alone I feared the worst, but he convinced me that the cannon was for Uwel, not Michael. None of us know who the second cannon was for though.

"He's not," I say. "We don't know if he will be."

She looks away. "He's dead?"

"Maybe, we don't know. There was an avalanche over at the cliff and he got trapped in a cave."

"Oh. I see."

Cerra bites her lip and stares at nothing. She cares about him, we all do. I hope he's still alive. I miss Michael. After a few hours trapped in a castle with Howel and Zozi, I realised where most of the happiness in the castle had come from.

"I'm sure he's okay," I say tentatively.

"Don't say that or I'll want to believe it."

With a sigh she closes her eyes. I feel like I have to stay there until she's asleep, in case anything happens. Luckily, the wait doesn't last long. The door burst open and Michael runs in, his clothes and hair damp.

"Michael!"

Cerra's eyes snap open at the sound of the name and she tries to sit up again. Despite the pain, this time she manages it. Michael smiles weakly at her.

"I heard you were dead," she says.

"Who told you that?" he says.

I notice her cheeks redden slightly as she looks away. "I was worried about you."

"Same," he says, then hears that in his mind. "No – I wasn't worried about me. I was worried about you."

"You didn't have to be."

"I knew you'd pull through."

"I'll be hunting again tomorrow," she says with a confident grin.

"As deadly as ever, I assume?" he says.

"Hopefully," she says. "You'll be my partner?"

"Of course." He smiles.

I leave the room. I can tell that I'm not needed, and that I'm not wanted. I smile to myself as close the door behind me. For some reason, Michael seems so much happier than he did this morning. I'm not. Our alliance will be over soon, and he'll be my enemy. They all will be, except Zozi. I know she'll stick by me. But I also know that she'll keep her promise to Luck if we meet him again.

* * *

**I hope that Rhian's POV made sense, I know I did some weird things there, but hopefully you could still follow it.**

**I really liked writing Samkin and Michael interacting. I've got so used to writing the same sets of characters with each other, only ever meeting for fights, that it made a welcome change to write two characters that had never been allies before.**

**Next chapter's a big one! I can't wait to post it.**


	31. When the Beast Wakes

_**Day 9**_

**Abi POV**

"Abi! Wake up!"

Hands shake me into consciousness. I blink a panicked Zozi into focus. I sit up and look towards the window, expecting to see the pink light of the dawn. Instead, I see the faint glow of the moon barely shining through the shaking curtains. It's not just the curtains, the whole room is shaking. There's a crash as a painting falls off of the wall.

"What's going on?" I jump out of bed and into my boots.

I've been practicing quick awakenings. Looks like it's paid off. None of us wear nightclothes. We wear what we wear every day, in case of action at night. I do up my boots and shrug on my jacket as Zozi speaks.

"It's an earthquake," she says. "I think it's just on the castle. You have three minutes to pack."

"You'll wake up the others this time," I say firmly.

"Yes," Zozi says, but she hesitates.

I nod and she runs out of the room. I grab my backpack and frantically search for what to pack. My daggers, of course. A torch and a change of clothes. The few poisons that I've successfully made and the book that I was reading, because I've just got to a good bit. I glance at the clock just before it falls from the wall. The glass front cracks and the hands stop.

With my daggers at the ready, I sling my bag onto my back and run out into the hallway. Cerra and Michael are standing there, an aura of confusion and panic surrounding them. Cerra's still in pain, that much is clear, but she's got a backpack and her knives.

"Abi!" she exclaims and gestures for me to join them.

I run over to her. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," she says, looking around at the shaking walls. They're shaking violently now, and the floor beneath my feet suddenly feels very thin. "It's a Gamemaker trick."

"It's like the avalanche," Michael says quickly. "This is what it felt like before the rocks fell."

"But we're not on the cliff..." Cerra is cut off by a huge crash that shakes the whole castle.

The three of us run to the only window in the corridor, the one that overlooks the courtyard where Zozi trained me. On the other side of the castle there's a huge mound of rubble. The remains of Howel's tower, I realise with a shock. The castle is collapsing. I stare in horror, unable to move. My legs feel week and my mouth dry. This can't be happening. This castle has been my home. This is where I've felt safe, where I've made brilliant friends. It's saved my life, and its treasures and secrets have kept me company when there was no one else who could. And now it's collapsing? Why? Why now? I knew I'd have to leave eventually, but I was sure that the castle would still be standing as I headed off into the forest. For the Gamemakers to destroy it is to destroy the happiness that it created. It's destroying me. They're trying to speed up the games, but haven't enough people died recently? Uwel Maggs was another victim of Howel and Cray Stonat has left his twin. Isn't that enough lives to keep them satisfied?

Zozi runs along the corridor, bow in hand and arrows on her back.

"Howel's gone!" she yells, her eyes bright with fear. "He's not in his room. He left a note."

She holds out a folded scrap of paper to us. I take it and unfold it. Michael and Cerra peer over my shoulders anxiously as I read. I've never wanted to hurt Howel so much before in my life. On the paper is a scrawled note: _I'm leaving. The alliance is over._

"That bastard," Michael spits.

Without an alliance, the Careers are no longer a group. With no Careers, there's no Career Castle. Howel's the one that's caused this.

We all look nervously at each other, as if waiting to see who'll attack first. No one moves.

"But it's not over, is it?" I say of the sound of another tower collapsing. "We're all still here."

"I won't abandon you," Michael says. "We're a team."

Zozi and Cerra nod.

"Now let's get out of here," Zozi says.

We follow her down the corridor, struggling to stay upright on the shaking ground. Zozi swears loudly when we reach the staircase. The stairs have gone. They've collapsed into rubble in the entrance hall below, which is in ruins itself. The flooring's cracked and the furniture's broken. Flames from broken lamps gradually begin to consume it.

"Are we going to jump?" I ask.

"It's too dangerous," Zozi says.

"It's dangerous to stay here!" Cerra exclaims.

"We'll take the kitchen stairs," Michael says.

As a group we charge back along the corridor. Cerra clings to Michael's hand to support her. Zozi stays close by me. We turn a corner and run along the next corridor. It seems so long, and when time is running out, we can't afford to take a long route. The castle smashes itself around us. Segments of floor are missing and we have to jump over them to get past. Smoke drifts towards us and I cover my mouth with my sleeve. Rubble collapses in the corridor a few steps behind us. We're surrounded by ways to die.

"Quickly!" Michael leads the way down the kitchen stairs, almost tripping over his own feet as he does so.

We reach the kitchen, and what we find prompts another expletive from my sister. Rubble blocks the way out of the door. Tears begin to form in my eyes. I try to tell myself they're just irritated by the smoke, but I know that that's not the truth. I'm scared. I'm going to die here, under the weight of my own home. Cerra's crying as well. Michael squeezes her hand tightly.

"We're not going to die," he says. "Yesterday, I was in virtually the same situation and I got out all right. We'll do the same."

"Sorry Michael, but I don't think that there are any underground lakes here," Zozi snaps.

"There could be," I say, and my tears stop.

I throw the door to the pantry open. In the centre is the trapdoor that no key would open. We didn't try force to open it. Now's the only occasion that I've wished I had an axe with me. I kneel down and try to break the lock with my dagger. Michael rushes over and helps me, and after a lot of effort we manage to force it open. Splinters stick in my fingers, but I don't care. Beneath the trapdoor is a rocky tunnel. We've found the tunnel network. I hear a nearby crash and look through the door to see a fire in the kitchen. We've found the way out just in time.

"Here." Zozi passes me a torch and I jump down the hole.

It's deeper than I thought it was, and I scrape my knee as I land. I run the beam of light over the stone walls of the tunnel. It's big enough to stand in, and quite wide. There's no other light source, so I hope that the torch's batteries last.

The other three jump down behind me. We run down the tunnel some way, taking random turns as we go. Above us, the ceiling shakes as the castle collapses on top of it. It'll hold though. When I'm out of breath, we stop and sit in the middle of the tunnel. Cerra gives a relieved smile and hugs Michael as well as she can with one arm. He pushes her away awkwardly.

"All right, what now?" I ask.

"We carry on," Cerra says. "You saw the puzzle before... that... happened. These tunnels will lead somewhere."

I nod. "They all led to one large cavern before going to exits. I'm no expert, but I'd imagine that there'll be something in that cave."

"Keep your weapons ready," Michael says. "We'll be able to take it, whatever it is."

Nodding in agreement, we stand and continue onwards. We walk now, too exhausted to run. The torch cuts quite a way into the darkness, but the tunnels go on forever. Through the twists and turns of the tunnels, I'm convinced that we're going in circles. There are no landmarks we could use to orientate ourselves. We might as well be blind in the dark.

"It's got hotter," Cerra says.

She's right. I've noticed a steady increase in temperature. I thought it was just me getting worn out, but it might not be. Are the Gamemakers raising the heat to try to drive us from the tunnels? I don't know. Haven't they tortured us enough? We've lost our home, and have no idea where we are. I'm thankful for my allies. If they weren't there, I'd be in floods of tears right now. We turn a corner and stop sharply.

"What the hell is that?" Michael says.

Turns out the Gamemakers had one more trick up their sleeves.

Ahead, the tunnel widens into a huge cavern. No, cavern makes it seem small. This is a cathedral of stone. I didn't realise we were this far underground, but the height of the cave is at least ten times my own. It's even wider than it is tall, a circle with several smaller tunnels spreading off of it, like the legs of a fat spider. The room is filled with gold and gems. Gold coins form mountains that glitter in the light of glowing crystals. But this pile of wealth instils terror rather than wonder. It's not a treasure trove, it's a treasure hoard. It's a nest.

Its creator sits in the middle of it, a huge creature to match its massive lair. A giant, lizardlike creature with pearlescent scarlet scales. Green eyes with slits for pupils snap onto me. One of those eyes is as big as my head. Just one of the claws on its feet is as long as my forearm. Wings that are too large to be spread are mounted on its back, folded close to its hulking body.

"Holy crap..." Cerra whispers.

There can be no argument as to what that thing is. Like in so many fairytales, a dragon sleeps beneath this castle. At least, it used to sleep. Now it's very much awake, and annoyed by its tiny visitors. We're dwarfed by it. Our weapons would do nothing against its scaled skin. If I'd been told that it was a choice between death by falling castle and death by dragon, I think I'd have chosen to stay in my room. But now, the only option is to

"Run!" Zozi shouts, grabbing my arm.

She pulls me out of the way just in time as a fireball flies towards me. It hits the pile of gold behind me, melting it. My feet slide on coins as Zozi drags me towards the nearest tunnel. I glance behind me and see Michael and Cerra running in the opposite direction. My eyes meet Michael's, and we both know that this could be the last time we see each other alive. I'm torn away as the dragon shoots another jet of fire at me. I wouldn't have been quick enough to jump out of the way, but I flatten myself against the ground and another pile of coins takes the blow. Adrenaline races through me as I jump to my feet. I hate adrenaline; it tricks me into thinking that fear is exciting.

The dragon turns away from us and directs its next fireball at Michael. I duck to avoid its wildly swinging tail. Zozi's not as quick. The tail slams into her chest with a sickening crack. She's sent flying back into a mound of treasure. She swears again, but her voice is cracked and blood trickles from her lips.

"Zozi!" I scream, running to her side.

I try to pull her to her feet but she cries out in pain. She must have broken several ribs. I stare at her, my breathing shallow. I can't leave her here.

"Abi, take my bow," she says in a rasping voice.

"What? I..."

"Just do it!" With a final scrap of effort, she thrusts her bow into my hands. "Now go! Make District Three proud."

She smiles weakly at me. A smile I cannot return. I'm crying so much that I can't speak. My sister who I thought was dead was brought back to me, only for me to watch her die again? She's done so much for me in these games, saved my life so many times and taught me the skills I need to survive on my own. Although I've complained about her, I've never wanted her dead...

"Run!" she yells as the dragon turns again.

I look the creature in the eye, look at my sister, then turn and run. I'm alone as I run through the mounds of treasure. I hear the crackle of the air that's accompanied every blast of fire. Then a cannon fires. Zozi's cannon. I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. I can't cry yet. I need to get out first.

I slip on loose coins and tumble headfirst into a mountain of coins. I drag myself to my feet and see red on the gold. Warm blood oozes from a cut on my forehead. I cover it with my hand and stumble onwards through tears and pain. Another flame blast melts the coins I was lying on a moment ago. I glance up at the dragon. It's facing away from me again, focusing on Michael and Cerra. This is the time I have to run.

The adrenaline wins the fight against exhaustion. I somehow find the strength to drive me forward. Screaming with all of my sorrow and anger I charge towards the tunnel. I push myself up when I fall. Two Dowl's won't die on the same day. I turn into the tunnel, only to find a wall of metal blocking my way. Damn, these Gamemakers really like their surprise blockades, don't they? The thump of feet and rattle of coins tells me that the dragon's turning again. I duck a jet of fire just in time and it hits the metal wall. It doesn't melt.

The dragon seems to need time to 'recharge' between fire blasts. I have a few seconds. Then my eyes catch something. A control panel on the tunnel wall. I run over to it and slam my fist into the large red button in the middle. I resist a cheer as the metal wall begins to rise, I run through, the fire hot on my heels. The wall hasn't fully risen by the time I'm on the other side. I look around frantically. There it is! The matching control panel. I rush to it and hit the button. The dragon begins to charge as the wall descends. The wall reaches the ground at the same moment the dragon reaches the wall. There's a deafening clash as they collide, but the wall holds fast.

I want to collapse like the castle, but I have to be sensible. I find a bandage in the backpack and wrap it round my head securely, making sure that it covers the wound. Then I stare at the wall. It's about as tall as the dragon was. If I hadn't found that other button, that horrific mutt could have escaped into the arena. I feel slightly proud. I faced a dragon, the traditional embodiment of evil, and survived. That's something to be proud of.

But everything's changed. I'm alone in this silent cave. I had four allies when I woke up, now I have none. I had a home, a bed to wake up in, now it's gone. I had a sister to shake me awake. Now she's dead. I don't feel particularly miserable about that. Just empty. Zozi had been dead for years anyway. I spent eight days with her ghost.

There's one thing that I have that I didn't when I woke up. A burning desire to win, to see my home again. There's nothing left for me in this arena, except victory.

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**Michael POV**

"No!"

The claws tear through Cerra, leaving three deep gashes in her torso. She screams and is thrown backwards into me. We collapse onto the gold and I try not to look at how deep those cuts are. I manage to stand and try to pull her up.

"Come on," I whisper, unwanted tears in my eyes.

Cerra's breathing is shallow and she stares at the ceiling. Her eyes glisten and shudders run randomly through her mutilated body. This can't be happening. Cerra was going to live, I made sure of it. She survived before. Despite her screams, I pick her up. She's not that light, and the extra weight throws me off balance. I run as far as I can and then we both collapse behind a pile of coins taller than me. The dragon turns away from us, losing interest.

Hastily, I pull a bandage from my bag and try to dress Cerra's wounds. She whimpers and her blood dies the bandages red in an instant. She's losing so much blood; we both know that she's not going to pull through. But that won't stop me from trying. I wipe tears from my eyes and she yells as I wrap the bandage round her.

"Stop it..." she says, her voice faint. "You know it won't help."

"You're not going to die," I say.

"Of course I am." She coughs, and blood runs from her mouth. "Urgh... Michael, you've done enough. I could have died yesterday. Maybe... I should have done."

"Don't say that. You survived yesterday, you can survive today."

"Do you... really believe that?" she squeezes my hand.

"I don't want you to die..."

"And I don't want you to," she whispers. "So run. Please."

"I..."

"Please."

She gives a slight smile, then her eyes close and she slumps back into the coins. A cannon fires and her grip on my hand loosens. I let go of her and stare in horror at her corpse. I failed. Two people died today. Two of my allies. Maybe I should have run with Samkin, so I didn't have to watch Cerra die.

I want to pick her up again, take her with me so I can be sure the helicopter will take her home. I want to at least give her the same 'funeral' we gave to Eli. But I can't. She'd weigh me down, and I have to get away from this dragon.

I leave Cerra's body. I run from behind the shelter of the coins. I glance over at the other side of the cavern and see that Abi's no longer there. She must have got out. At least one of us has done. As happy as I am for her, this means that the dragon only has me to kill. I'm not far from a tunnel. It's much smaller than the one that Abi disappeared down. The dragon couldn't fit down there, but a fire blast could. There'd be no escape from the flames. I turn into the tunnel and look back at the dragon, waiting for the fire to come.

The dragon watches me back with an expression that I could almost call curiosity. It doesn't seem interested in attacking. I stop running, which may be a fatal mistake. The dragon watches me, and then turns away. It curls up on its pile of gold and closes its eyes. It's sleeping? But it was attacking so viciously a moment ago. Why on earth would it stop? Maybe it had a kill quota or something, that's the only explanation that I can think of. But for it to understand that it would have to be intelligent. It's just a mutt, a mindless killer. Unless the Capitol has somehow found a way to create intelligence. They created a life, capable of thought, and put it into the arena as an obstacle. That's... that's horrible. It's more like a tribute than a mutt. A living, thinking creature whose only purpose is to kill.

I turn away from the dragon and run into the tunnel. It's chosen to spare my life, for now.

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**Howel POV**

I watch from the edge of the forest as the castle crumbles into rubble and flames. It's gone now, the last thing that was holding me back. There's no such thing as a hunt anymore – every moment of every day is a hunt now. I feel something akin to sadness stir inside of me, but I push it away. It's those emotions, that attachment to other people that made the others weak.

Two cannons fire, in quick succession of each other. I wonder who they are for. I don't mind, although I hope that it wasn't Abi. Not because of any feelings I have for her, but because I still would like to kill her myself. If she's crushed in the castle, then she'll be stolen from me. I'll have to wait a whole day to find out who died.

I drag my heavy bag behind me as I walk away. We're down to the final seven now. There are no alliances. This is when the games get interesting.

The Careers are no more.

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**Told you it was a big chapter!**

**I hope it wasn't too over the top! I'd intended to have the dragon there since I began the story, but I'm slightly worried that it doesn't fit with the darker tone of the more recent chapters. I still like it though.**

**We're down to the final eight (well, seven) now so I'm restarting the poll on my profile. So much has changed since the last poll was created, and I'm sure your opinion on the characters has done as well. **

**This fic has had over 100 reviews. I'm speechless. I genuinely can't express how much I love all of my reviewers. Thank you so much for all of your reviews, they've kept me going with this fic and have made me so much more confident about my writing. I love every single review I get, even if I don't respond to it. You're all amazing!**

**My SYOT has started! So if you've got a tribute in it, or if you just want to read more of my writing, then go and read it!**


	32. To The Future

**Luck POV**

The cannons woke me like an alarm clock. Two of them, again. People keep dying at the moment. I count the number of tributes left. Seven. Wow, that means that I'm in the final eight. How have I managed to get this far? I've seen tributes much stronger than me in the sky. Why haven't the Gamemakers started picking on me yet? My speeches can't be that interesting.

Who's dead? It could be Abi. The thought doesn't frighten me as much as it used to. I still love her I think, but she's a Career now. Does that instantly make her a villain? No, but it's another barrier between her and me. I would have liked the chance to tell her how I feel, just to see how she reacted. But there's a chance that she's dead now.

I eat one of the small bread buns that I was sent by my sponsors. There are only two left now, I'm getting through them too quickly. I won't get any more sponsor gifts, I know that. It's day nine, they must be costing loads by now.

Wow, day nine. That's quite a long time when your life is measured in minutes.

"Luck..."

I jump at the sound of a voice behind me. I turn around slowly and gasp when I see her. It's Abi, in a much worse state than yesterday. A bloodied bandage circles her head and her clothes are torn. Tears stain her cheeks and she has to lean against a tree to keep upright. Her daggers are tucked into her belt and there's a bow over her shoulder. Is it Zozi's bow? Does that mean Zozi's dead?

"Don't worry," she says, her voice shaky. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I don't doubt that for a second. She's struggling to stand – she doesn't look like she could kill.

"They're dead, Luck," she says. "The castle's gone."

"Gone?"

"Collapsed. It fell into nothing." There are dark circles beneath her haunted eyes. "Zozi's dead, Luck."

"I gathered that," I say, and she flinches a little at the words. She must have thought I was being cold and unfeeling. I didn't mean it like that at all. "I'm sorry."

"She died protecting me." I can see the tears building up again, like water pressing against a weak dam. "I didn't want that... I'm alone now."

"You're... you're not alone," I say and she smiles back at me. "I'll protect you..."

"No! No more protecting," she says. "I can fight for myself. But I want an ally, Luck, an equal. I'm not a Career, I was never meant to be, but I'm not a victim either. I'm a tribute, and so are you. I know what the people who are still alive are like. Howel's insane, Raquelle's a brilliant swordsman, and whichever other Career is left is a killer. Us normal tributes need to team up to survive."

"You've never been normal, Abi," I say, and realise that's something else she could take the wrong way. "You've always been brilliant."

"Don't flatter me. Do you want to be my ally or not?" The weakness is suddenly gone, and it's the confident, practical Abi from District Three that stands before me.

"Of course I do."

My stomach flutters. It's actually happening, Abi and me, winning the games together. Even as the rest of the arena and the alliances in it crumbles and falls, District Three will stay strong. We've made it this far. Together, we can make it to the end.

Abi stumbles towards me, a smile on her face. She hands me her bow. "Here. I'm sorry I couldn't get hold of the arrows."

She seems somewhat reluctant to let go of it, even though she's holding it out to me. I know why, it's Zozi's bow. It's the last piece she's got of her sister. I don't ask how Zozi died, I'm not sure I want to know. I'm grateful for the bow though, despite the lack of arrows. I can already tell how well crafted it is. It will always shoot straight and will always shoot far. It's a brilliant weapon, but currently it's useless.

"Is your head all right?" I ask.

I reach out and gently stroke the bandage. Flyaway strands of her hair tickle my fingers, and she shrinks away. I hope it's that I accidentally got the cut, not that she flinches at my touch.

"It's fine," she says. "I just cut it a bit."

"How, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Fighting a dragon," she says with a faint smile. "Like you do."

"A dragon?" I exclaim.

"Yeah..." Abi's voice trails off.

I want to ask her more, but I can tell that it's a sensitive subject. But a dragon? The Gamemakers must be proud of that one! It must have been huge! Possibly the biggest project in genetic engineering ever undertaken. I want to know all the details, but our alliance isn't set in stone yet. With so few tributes left, even alliances that have been together since day one would be wavering. Tributes hardly ever team up this late in the games.

"So, how have you been?" she asks, sitting down and rubbing her head.

"Bored, mostly," I say and she laughs. "It's true! I've spent all my time walking around these woods going nowhere in particular. It's so tiring and dull, I kind of long for action sometimes. Of course, when the action happens, I hate it."

"Sorry," Abi says. "About the attack, I mean. I wouldn't have killed you, but still... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You were one of the Careers then, you were doing what you had to do."

"Am I still a Career?" she asks.

"Of course not! You said so yourself. You were never a Career. By definition, a Career is a tribute that spent their life training for the games. Was that you?"

"No, but..."

"Well there you go, you're not a Career. You're a good old District Three tribute, out to prove that us techies can win!"

She laughs nervously and I realise that I might be being a bit too overenthusiastic.

"Did you... um... did you ever kill anyone?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No. I came close with you, but I just couldn't bring myself to."

"Then you're definitely not a Career," I say, trying to sound reassuring.

"They're not heartless, you know," she says. "They were really good people."

"Who kill other people for fun?"

"You don't know what they're like. They're not evil."

I shrug and feel her eyes burning into me. I need to change the conversation quickly.

"Here," I say, offering her one of my little loaves.

"I can't take your food," she says, pushing it away.

"It's not mine, it's ours," I say. "What's mine is yours. We're allies now, aren't we? "

"Yeah," she says, after a slight pause. "But I'm not hungry. You keep it – it's all the food we've got."

"I guess so," I say.

Her gaze falls to the ground and I say nothing. I'll leave her in peace for a while. She needs a break from the action.

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**Howel POV**

A thin layer of dust covers the piano keys. It rubs off onto my fingertips as I press one single note. It resounds around the broken hall, crisp and clear in the silence. The piano feels like a relic from long ago, not something I was playing yesterday. Around me, the ballroom is in ruins. Out of the entire castle, it's the only bit that remains intact. I say intact, meaning it in the loosest sense of the word. The door and walls somehow still stand, despite a large crack in one of the walls. There's a massive hole in the ceiling and one of the giant chandeliers has fallen. It lies in the middle of the hall, surrounded by cracked tiles. Most of the paintings have fallen from the walls and the dust is everywhere.

The Gamemakers did a good job of taking out the rest of the castle. This only proves that I was right about the feast. They've got something set up in here and they didn't want to destroy it. They're not the only ones with a plan, of course. It's not just the Gamemakers that can set traps. That's why I'm back here, to finish my work. Most of the things that I need are in my bag, but I've salvaged some stuff from the ruins. It was a strange feeling, digging around in rubble for a book I was reading just a few days ago. I found the dusty scraps of playing cards that I'd last seen in Michael's hand, the torn remains of the black dress Cerra wore for Eli's funeral. But I did find something interesting in the ruins of the castle, something that I wasn't expecting at all.

They'd managed to open the trapdoor – that must have been how they escaped alive. When I found that, I just had to go and take a look. I wandered around the tunnels for a while, and it was all rather dull. Just tunnel after identical tunnel. But then I found it. I only saw it briefly, but it was enough. The dragon, sleeping beneath the castle. The moment I set eyes on the great creature, the cogs in my mind started to turn. It seems so wasted. It only killed two people. I could have unleashed it onto the arena, watched as the forest burnt and the tributes died. But I didn't. That would take the fun out of it. When I kill someone, I want to see the light fade from their eyes. I don't want some giant lizard to do it for me. I don't care how long the games last – the hunt is part of the thrill of the kill. Using the dragon would have been an easy way out.

I didn't spend too long in the tunnels. There was too much down there that interested me. I don't want anything to distract me from my plans for the feast. I need to get on with that quite quickly; it won't be long until it's announced. There must be a general lack of food by now, especially now that we've lost our food supply. People will be getting hungry, and hungry people need a feast. When the Gamemakers see what I've done to this ballroom, it'll be a crime not to announce the feast. I'm sure that they want to see how my plan works out as much as I do.

I brush more dust from the keys and sit down on the piano stool. I half expect everything to be covered in spider webs. It just feels like it should be. But it's only my fingers that crawl over the keys, pulling their music from the silence. Somehow, the sound is colder than it used to be. The hammers strike harsher, infecting the music with melancholy. It's still enough though. Enough to pull me under, to make me sink into the music. I can block out the world when I play. I used to be able to play for hours and not notice it; I was so lost in the music. I could do that now as the notes fill the air. I don't know what I'm playing, my fingers just move along the keys. After years of practice I don't need to think any more, I just feel. Suddenly, I realise what melody my hands have picked out. It's the same one that I was playing that day that everyone was in the ballroom. I look around and my hands still play. I can almost see them in the room. The ghostly figure of Abi leans over the piano, a dreamy look in her eyes as she watches the keys. Cerra grabs Michael and pulls him into a dance. Although he starts off clumsily, they're soon waltzing elegantly round the fallen chandelier. Eli watches, not taking her eyes off of Michael, but she chats to the spirit of Zozi at the same time. Zozi smiles a rare smile as Eli laughs. I have no idea which of them are still alive. I shake my head to try to drive their memories away. I speed up the melody to try to banish these phantoms. They won't leave though. They stay there, just figments of my imagination. They don't go until I slam my hands down onto the keys. The music stops with a horrible discord and the spectres vanish just as abruptly. I'm left alone again, shaking as I stare at the piano. What on Earth was that? They weren't real, they weren't even illusions summoned by the Gamemakers. They were just in my mind.

Still trembling, I stand and back away from the piano. The ballroom feels strangely empty without my allies – the real ones or their ghosts. I stumble to my bag and search inside of it. I need to get started on my trap. I need to do something to take my mind away from them.

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**Just a little chapter while you recover from the last update. I'm not too fond of Luck's POV here – I feel like I could have written that scene much better :(**

**If you haven't voted on the poll yet, please do! Your vote might actually influence who wins!**


	33. Lucky Day

_**Day 10**_

**Rhian POV**

I skin the rabbit as the fire slowly grows. A few days ago, I wouldn't have been able to do this. I like rabbits – they're cute. We had a pet one once. It wasn't a proper one from a shop – it was a wild one with an injured leg that Cray found. Mum wanted to cook it, but he nursed it back to health. It lived a long, happy life and only died last year. I grew quite fond of it actually.

That memory had been putting me off killing rabbits. I caught one today, by luck. And now I'm skinning it like a hunter, dragging my knife through its soft fur. Its blood gets onto my hands, but I don't care. It's going to keep me alive. That's all that matters now. Winning is the only thing that means anything anymore. I don't care how many rabbits I have to kill to survive. I don't care how many tributes I have to kill to get out of this arena. I'll do it.

Cray was right. If he hadn't been here, then I'd have been in this state of mind from the start. In truth, I think that that would have been a good thing. This is the state of mind that I need to be in to win. And if he hadn't volunteered, then he'd still be alive. He'd be on the other side of the television screen, cheering me on. That's where I wanted him. I never wanted him in the arena. He was an idiot, a complete and utter idiot. But a brilliant idiot. He was my brother.

That girl – Raquelle, I think her name was – killed him. She actually killed him. He didn't just die, he was murdered. I wasn't even there when it happened. I feel like a traitor, although I was honouring Cray's last request by running. It doesn't stop me from being a coward, running to save my own skin. What could I have done though? I couldn't have fought Raquelle, not with my puny knife against her sword. That bloodstained sword. I hope Cray died quickly. I hope there wasn't too much pain.

Next time I find Raquelle, if I ever do, then I'll stand and fight. Even if I've only got the knife.

I feel a sharp, nagging pain in my finger. I look down and realise that I'd been rather vicious as I skinned the rabbit, and managed to accidentally nick my finger. I drop the knife and the rabbit and wave my finger in the air. I grit my teeth. For some reason, little cuts can really, really hurt. I suck on my finger but stop as I realise there's rabbit blood in my mouth. I spit and swear, the bitter tang of the stuff still on my tongue.

Cursing, I pick up the knife and the rabbit carcass. I begin skinning again, slightly more carefully this time. My finger still stings as I move it.

A silver parachute drifts down through the trees. I catch it just before it falls into the fire. I still have sponsors, this late in the games? What could they be sending me? I place the mystery gift by my side. I'll open it once this bloody rabbit is finally skinned.

With a last jerk of the knife, the skin's gone from the rabbit. The flesh looks odd without the skin covering it, raw and pink. I lay the rabbit on the removed skin to stop the mud from getting to it and turn my attention to the package. The silver paper turns red with blood as I open it. I give a snort of laughter when I see what's inside. A long knife, well-crafted with a golden handle. Just what I need. Looks like Raquelle won't have too much of an advantage, weapon-wise at least. Clearly the sponsors want to see this fight as much as I do.

I test the knife with a few swings, and then tuck it into my belt. It's really nice – a weapon rather than a utensil like my penknife. This is something designed to kill, not to skin rabbits. And it will kill, eventually. Once I've eaten this rabbit. I've spent too long skinning it to not eat it. I'm hungry – I haven't had a proper meal in days, and I haven't had meat since the games began. I'm salivating as the smell drifts towards me while it cooks over the fire.

I won't eat it all at once, of course. The games aren't over yet, as much as I'd like them to be. Chances are I'm going to need another meal before the final cannon fires.

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**Abi POV**

I wouldn't say that I was friends with Luck back in District Three, but I definitely didn't dislike him. I guess you could say that we were acquaintances, but it was a bit more than that. We were more like colleagues, the two cleverest kids in the class who were always made to work together. So – not friends, but definitely not strangers. We could have been friends, if he hadn't been so quiet all the time.

That shy Luck seems to have been left in District Three. This Luck doesn't shut up. He rambles on and on about nothing in particular, as if all of the words that he hasn't had the chance to say in the last ten days are all spilling out of his mouth at once. I don't mind it though. He's friendly, quite funny and overall not bad company. It's so different from talking to the Careers. Luck's so innocent, despite the time he's spent in the games. From the sound of it, he hasn't been in much danger since the Cornucopia. I'm the only other tribute he's met, and the only real danger he'd been in was when I attacked him. I wonder why the Gamemakers have been going easy on him; they seem to have been giving every other tribute as difficult a time as possible.

I like talking to Luck. We talk about District Three mostly, about our home, about school, about friends. It's nice – I can almost forget I'm in the games. Home seems so far away, it feels like years since I was there. We talk like Mum does when she meets an old school friend, when they reminisce about their childhood together. I shouldn't be doing this. I'm still in my childhood – I should be living it, not remembering it.

I'm not a child any more though. I've seen people die – my friends, my sister. There's no way I can be called a child. No one in the games can be. Even the very youngest of the twelve year olds are adults as soon as they step into the arena. If I get back home, will I be a child again? I doubt it. The games will stick with me forever. I've seen the old victors in the district. Their eyes are haunted, their faces sullen. The memories never leave.

It was Cerra that died in the dragon's cave. I broke down crying when I saw her and Zozi in the sky. Cerra had been like a sister to me in the castle, more so than my own sister I think. Zozi trained me and protected me, but Cerra was there when I needed someone to talk to. I don't think I can thank her enough for lying about Elsia's death. She was completely right – Howel would have killed me ages ago if she hadn't said that. But she's dead now.

At least Michael's still alive. I don't know what I'll do if I meet him again though. We're not allies anymore. He's a Career. He'll go for the kill. Will I be able to fight back? I don't know. I want to win, and I know that I'll have to kill to do that. I'm just not sure if I could kill a friend.

"Are you okay? You zoned out for a moment there," Luck says.

"I'm fine," I say, pulling my backpack further up my back. "Just thinking about some things."

"Right," Luck says. "Sorry to interrupt your thoughts."

"No, no, it's fine," I say, attempting a smile. "It's probably best if you don't let me think."

"Yeah, it's kind of scary, isn't it?" Luck says. "When you think about what you've got to do if you want to get out alive."

I nod. "It's better if you don't think about it."

We carry on walking in silence. We're not going anywhere. We're just going wherever our feet take us. It would be nice if we found water. Or another tribute. Well, that wouldn't be nice, but we kind of have to find a tribute eventually and the sooner the better I guess.

"Um... Abi?" Luck says eventually.

"Hmm?"

"I... I need to tell you something," Luck says.

He stops walking and turns to face me. He's shaking slightly and his hands are clenched tightly into fists. It's like all of his confidence has suddenly evaporated.

"What is it?" I ask, concerned.

"I... I..." he clears his throat and meets my eyes, then looks away. "I'm not sure if you know, but... um... back in District Three... I... um... I kind of... um... liked you."

"Oh. Oh okay."

"No no no," Luck says. "I _liked_ you."

"Yep. That's what I thought you meant."

"But... um... it's kind of more than that," Luck says, fiddling with his hands. "I guess you could kind of say that... I love you."

Oh _crap_.

He smiles hopefully at me. I can't think of what to say. I don't love him! Of course I don't! How on Earth can he think that he loves me? We barely know each other. There's nothing for him to fall in love with. Why did he tell me? Can't he have just kept those words inside? What does he expect me to say? I can't say anything. What am I meant to say? I won't tell him I love him, because I don't. I can't tell him that I don't love him, because that would basically break apart our alliance. I think I need an alliance. I don't know what I'd do if I was out here by myself. I thought I'd found a good alliance, I couldn't see Luck turning on me. Now I know that he definitely won't. Maybe he's lying. Maybe he's trying to trick me into trusting him. Of course he isn't – he's not that kind of person. Though he could be lying for sponsors. They love a good romance. Should I play along? No, because he's not lying. I can see it in his eyes, he's telling the truth. He looks almost pained as he waits for my response. My response... oh damn, he wants me to say something. I can't just say nothing and act as if this never happened. I need to say something, anything. No, not anything. What I say now could change my life. If I say no then he'll be hurt. He'll think I've betrayed him and I won't have an alliance anymore. If I say yes then I keep my ally and maybe might get some sponsors. So the obvious choice would be to say yes. But it's not the truth! He'd see that I was lying. But he might not. He might be so in love that he wouldn't see the lie. But then he'd think that I loved him! And that... that would just be problematic. I mean, would he expect... things? Two tributes in love with each other, alone in the wilderness on what could be the last day of their lives, of course he'd expect something to happen! And so would the audience. So... what can I say?

"That's nice." Great answer, brain. Real quick thinking there. You really do deserve the title of genius, don't you?

I walk past him quickly. He grabs my arm and pulls me back. He does it gently, so I could pull away if I wanted to. He doesn't want to force me to stay. But I have to – I need an ally, for now at least. Which is what is going to drive me to do the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life. It's a bad decision, I know that, it's a decision that I'll never be able to keep up. But hopefully I can be convincing, for a few days at least. Until Luck's dead.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't know that you'd react..."

"No, no, I'm just shocked," I say, faking a smile. "Because, Luck, I think I might love you too. I just never thought that you'd see me in the same way."

His eyes light up and he smiles. I'm a horrible person.

"I... why did you never tell me?" he asks.

"I was nervous. I thought you'd say no. Why did _you _never tell _me_?"

"For exactly that reason," he says.

He hugs me tightly, and I feel obliged to hug him back. He's so thin, starved by the games. I'm regretting this already. I should have just told him the truth and let us go our separate ways.

"Luck..." I say and he lets go of me, but still keeps my hands clasped in his. "What are we going to do?"

"Do about what?"

"About the games," I say. "There can only be one winner."

"I know that, Abi," he says. "And I'm going to make sure that it's you that gets back home."

Well, that's what I wanted. But Luck's basically saying that he'd die for me. I really don't want that. I feel so heartless. I need Luck to die, but I don't _want_ him to die. "You can't say that, Luck. I... I love you. I can't have you die."

"I have to die," Luck says. "For you. I've known it since the start of the games. I've known it since I was reaped. I'm not going to see District Three again. But you are."

"I don't want you to die," I say. Tears sting at my eyes. That'll help with the realism. Though I'm not crying because I'm sad. I'm crying because I'm going to twist this boy's heart until it stops beating. I don't want to do that, but it's the fate that I've resigned myself to. "I... I..."

"Don't cry, please don't cry," Luck says. "I should never have told you, I was being selfish. I should have just let us go on as before."

"But then I'd never have known the truth," I say. "It's good. I... we finally know how we feel. Isn't that worth it? To have one happy memory before... before..."

"We've got a few days left," Luck says. "And we'll make the most out of those days. Three days with you is better than an eternity apart."

"Don't say that..." I say. He means it. He's telling the truth, I'm sure he is.

"Promise me something, Abi," he says, looking deep into my eyes. I look at the floor, in case he catches the lies in my eyes. "When you get back to District Three, you'll forget about me. You'll move on. You'll find some other guy who'll love you just as much as I do. Please, I want to know that you'll be happy."

"How can I be happy, without you?"

"You'll manage." He smiles. "I know you will. You're strong. Me? I'm weak. I won't ever be able to move on. If I win, then I'll spend the rest of my life miserable and pining after your memory. So it's better if you win."

"Luck, you're not weak..."

"Don't lie to make me happy, I know the truth," Luck says. "But can we forget about the games for now? It's just us that matters. Pretend these are the woods in District Three – that we're just out for a walk together. Two lovers, hand in hand."

"I don't have to pretend that last part."

I'm evil. This has gone past manipulating the situation to my advantage, this is pure evil. But I can't go back; I can't tell him the truth now. It'd break his heart more than if I'd told him the truth to begin with.

Then he kisses me, and I have to kiss him back. It's horrible, and slimy, and I feel nothing except pain. I catch a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye and use it as an excuse to break the kiss. I tear my hands from his and catch the parachute from the sky. Looks like my deception worked. We've got sponsors.

I open the gift. There's some crackers and cheese inside. That's all. I'm sure it cost a lot, and it will keep us alive, but I can't help but want more. This is all that I managed to win. I sold my first kiss for crackers.

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***hides from angry people* Sorry about this chapter… I really hope you don't all hate Abi now. I felt so mean writing this!**

**Oh, and I apologise for that terrible pun in the chapter title, but I had to lighten the mood somehow!**

…**please don't kill me. But please do leave a review. I really want to know what you all thought of this chapter.**


	34. Into Darkness

**Raquelle POV**

I drag my nails along my arm, managing to break the skin and draw blood. The beautiful liquid dribbles down my arm and I smile. The pain that accompanies it is just part of the pleasure. You can't have one without the other. This fresh blood looks so nice. The boy's blood has faded to an icky brown. The new blood is pure red, the colour of the games. I want more, to paint myself with it again, but I can't bring myself to use the sword on myself. That'd hurt a lot, probably. I'm not going to kill myself. I'm not stupid.

The pain rips through my thoughts, giving me a brief moment of clarity. What am I doing? I fall to my knees and bury my face in my hands. Cray's blood is all over me, and mine is joining his. What have I become? My hands are moist with tears and my nails dig into my cheeks. My nails, that if I pressed a bit harder would draw blood... No, not this again. Go away! Stay away!

I push the nails harder against my cheeks but they do not puncture the skin. Muttering things that might be words, I clamber to my feet. I draw my sword. I can't see anyone to use it on; I just want to hold it. To feel the power of it in my hand. It's been two days since my last kill. I need another one soon. It's been too long since I saw another tribute. There were two of them in the sky last night. They were kills that had escaped me. They were taunting me by showing their faces again. Next time there's a face in the sky, it'll be there because I told it to be.

Who's left now? Michael. He's always alive. Because he's waiting to be killed by me. If I could only kill one more tribute then it would be him. He killed Yve. There's Rhian. I've already killed a Stonat. They're fun to kill, they have so much blood. Who else is there? I've forgotten most of their names and faces. Some of the people I've seen in the sky were complete strangers to me.

Where would they be? They're hiding from me. All of them, scared of me. Hiding behind the silver trees. But I'll find them all eventually.

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**Rhian POV**

Damn it, Gamemakers, I'm doing what you want me to do. I'm looking for other tributes to kill. Well, one specific tribute. But you make it so difficult for me! This forest goes on for miles; I'll only find Raquelle through luck. It's been a while since I last saw her, so there's no guaranteeing that she's anywhere near to me. She could even have run to the cliff if she wanted to.

I'm ready to kill her, I'm sure of it. I've been ready to kill her ever since I heard Cray's cannon fire. I can't let her live. For Cray, I'll make sure that Raquelle dies. I've never wanted to kill, and I'd never have thought that there would be a time when I did. But just the thought of Raquelle and her sword, and the scared face of my beloved brother as he stepped between us, fills me with rage. I won't enjoy killing her – unlike her I still have a conscience – but I have to do it.

After everything that she's done, after the madness has consumed her, is she even human anymore? I remember seeing her before the games began, confident and proud. She was one of the favourites to win. There was no hint at a darker side of her then. When I saw her on the television and during the interview, I saw myself in her. She was scared, but knew that she had strengths. She was full of determination and will. But something's happened in this arena to tear her apart. Maybe the insanity always lurked deep within her, but something must have happened to have brought it to the surface. Whatever it was, it must have been something horrific. To have triggered such a transformation in a person, to completely break her, it must have been terrible. But it's in the past now. Whoever Raquelle was before the games, she's not that person anymore. She's my enemy, my brother's murderer. And I'm going to kill her.

Just as I'm imagining myself murdering a faceless Gamemaker for their ridiculously big arena, I see Raquelle. She's alone in the middle of a clearing, kneeling as if in prayer, her hands covering her face. Dried blood covers her arms and face. Cray's blood, I realise with a shock. I gag and cover my mouth. She's evil. She has to be. I'll never know what she did to Cray. It's better if I don't. There's fresh blood, creeping over her second skin of my brother's blood. It comes from long gashes on her arm, like she's been clawed at by some creature. Her shoulder is wrapped in a bloodied bandage. Good, if she's injured I have a better chance of winning this fight.

She's crying. The sound is almost inhuman, it sounds like she's being strangled as she sobs. She's talking to herself, babbling words that I can't quite make out. She's insane. Actually insane. Not just bloodthirsty – this girl has actually lost her mind. It's kind of sad, kind of pathetic, but it doesn't stop me from loathing her. How could I feel pity for the creature that killed my brother?

The tears stop. She stands up and draws her sword. Has she seen me? I adjust my grip on the knife, preparing for the fight. But Raquelle doesn't seem to have seen me. Her eyes dart around the clearing, but not once do they settle on me. I'll have to be the one to start the fight.

I want to, I want to step out from behind the tree and stab her in the gut. But fear roots me to the spot. Raquelle's good with a sword, and she's clearly clung on to some of that ability in her madness, whereas I've never fought before. Surely I could have chosen an easier opponent for my first fight? But I'm not fighting for the sake of a kill. I'm fighting for revenge. This is the only thing I can do for Cray now. I let him down by not fighting before. With my new weapon and the adrenaline that runs through me at the thought of vengeance, I'll actually have a good chance this time.

But just jumping out and fighting won't help me. I press myself against the tree. It's wide enough that I'm confident that Raquelle won't be able to see me.

"Raquelle!" I call out into the forest. It echoes around the trees.

In the clearing, Raquelle freezes.

"Where are you?" she spits.

"I'm here, Raquelle."

"Where?" she shouts, panic in her already strange voice.

"You killed him, Raquelle. You killed my brother!"

"I killed..." She bursts into a harsh laugh. "Cray! Cray! Darling little Cray! He screamed, he begged, and he bled. He bled so much, so much blood. Rhian? That's you, isn't it? Rhian! The one that ran. Run, Rhian, run! No, stay and play, Rhian! You'll go like he did – a mangled body on the floor. Another Stonat for me! Will you bleed like him? Will you be as much fun as him? We'll have to find out!"

"Shut up!" I scream.

I'm not looking at her. I'm staring out into the forest. A cold sweat creeps over me and my skin crawls. She's worse than I thought. It's like there's no trace of the girl from the training centre left. Just this thing, this monster in the clearing.

She cackles again. "Why are you hiding, Rhian? It'll be fun! Are you scared? Are you going to run away again?"

She taps on the other side of the tree. She's found me.

"Aren't you going to come out and play?"

The time for talking is over. I spin round to the other side of the tree, stabbing my knife at her throat. With a giggle, she ducks. I stop the knife before it slams into the tree. I jump backwards, putting more space between us. She grins at me, and the smile splits her face. A mask of blood covers her face. Up close, I can truly see the madness in her eyes. But there's something else, a slight pleading to be released, but the insanity consumes it.

"Found you!" she says, and swings her sword at my head.

I manage to duck. I slash my knife up as I rise, but she's too far away. Her sword has a much longer reach than my knife. I need to get closer if I want to hit her at all. I evade her next attack and run into the centre of the clearing. The more space I have, the better. I don't want to risk getting pinned against the tree.

She follows me, slashing at me again. I bring my knife up to parry. The blades clash and lock. I manage to push her away. I'm stronger than her. There, I've finally got an advantage in this fight. I thrust my knife at her gut and she leaps aside, leaving a trail of laughter in the air behind her. She kicks at me and her foot collides with my stomach. I wince and stumble, but don't fall. My feet are firm on the ground.

"Come on, Rhian!" she says with a grin. "You've got to be a challenge. You're no fun otherwise!"

The sword's aimed at my head. I evade and swing at the same time. My knife bites into her side. Where another person would cry out in pain, she laughs. I back away at the sound of the maniacal laughter, increasing the space between us. Seemingly ignoring her pain, she swings again. I parry.

And so it continues. Attack, parry, attack, evade, as we wait for the other to make a fatal mistake. But neither of us do. We continue to dance to the clash of blades. Either Raquelle's not as good as she was in training, or the little bit of knife training that I had in the centre paid off more than I thought. We seem equally matched. Raquelle's slightly quicker and lighter on her feet, but I'm stronger. There are notches in her sword where I've parried.

With another scream of steel, our weapons part again and we jump back. Raquelle continues to laugh, but she's breathing heavily. She's as worn out as I am. We lock eyes over our miniature arena. I'm exhausted. I want to use my last strength to turn and run into the woods. But then I look at her. The mad grin, the laughter, and I know that this is the same face that Cray saw before he died. I have to kill this girl. Shouting a wordless battle cry, I charge.

She dodges, but not soon enough. My knife tears through the bandage on her shoulder, opening an old wound. For the first time, she howls in pain. Before I know it, she's spun around and sliced me across my back. The pain rips through me. The cut's not deep enough that it'll kill me, but it's excruciating. I fought through the acid rain. I can fight through this.

I turn, lashing out at her with the knife. She jumps back and the dagger misses her throat by centimetres. I curse the pain of moving and slash again. The knife finds her injured arm again and cuts deep. She screams and slashes at me.

She's no longer bothering to defend herself from the few blows I attempt. She cuts and cuts again, her blade swinging wildly at me as she screams. I have to stop attacking. I frantically try to evade and parry, but for each attack I dodge another takes its place immediately.

Then the sword slashes across my stomach, drawing a line parallel to the one on my back. I grit my teeth but the pain and exhaustion is overwhelming. With a final cry, I swing at Raquelle one more time. My weakened blow is useless. She grabs my wrist and twists it behind me. The air is knocked out of me as her knee slams into my back, forcing me to the ground. Raquelle looks down at me curiously, as if pondering what to do.

There's so much blood on the ground around me. There's no way I'm going to make it through this. I'm sorry Cray – I've done what I can.

But I'm not dead yet. And I still have my knife.

I throw it up at Raquelle with all of my might and it sinks deep into her stomach. She shrieks and blood spills from the wound. I manage a slight smirk, despite the darkness that threatens to pull me under. For a moment, the madness in Raquelle is gone. She falls down, clutching at her stomach and crying.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," she whimpers. "I..."

She stops crying and stares down at her blood covered hands. The grin struggles back onto her face and the laughter returns. She raises her hands to her face and smears the fresh blood over her eyes, over her cheeks and into her hair until her entire face is red, except those mad, staring eyes.

"You've been fun," she says, crawling over to me.

She tears the knife out of her and blood flows out of the gash. She pins me down, but she doesn't need to. I'm barely conscious; I can feel the strength and life gradually ebbing out of me. There's a maniac with a knife leant over me. This is it.

But I know a fatal injury when I see one. I might be dying, but I'm dragging Raquelle down with me. I've avenged Cray, even if I won't be returning home. Tears form at the thought of Cray and from the pain, but somehow I manage to smile up at Raquelle. I've killed her, whether she knows it or not.

Memories of Cray flood into me. Of when we were children, of all the times he was there for me. I remember home, of the family and friends that are watching as I die. It all feels so distant now, a hazy dream from long ago. The only thing that truly feels real is Cray. He's dead now, but his smile will still be the last thing that my mind will ever see.

I fade into darkness before Raquelle can bring the sword down.

**

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**Raquelle POV**

The cannon fires a split second before my sword pierces her heart. The blade summons the blood, but there's enough already. There's blood everywhere. Her blood and mine, pooling on the floor. I grab at my stomach, trying to stop the flow, but the warm blood still creeps through my fingers. I stare down at my hands, which might as well be painted with red paint. This isn't good blood. I can't enjoy this.

My shallow breaths come quickly. I grab at my sword but the handle slips away from my blood-covered hands. I manage to get a hold on it and try to stab the dead girl again, to see the good blood. But I'm weak. My arms shake and I drop the sword.

"Damn it..." I whisper.

I struggle to my feet, but I stumble and fall again. I tumble into the pool of blood and scream. I can't die like this! I need to kill again. I have to.

But no, I've got the death I deserve. Flailing and shrieking, surrounded by the blood that I loved so much. I stop moving and lie there, the blood matting my hair, and stare at the sky. Dots of nothing swim across my vision and my rasping breaths shudder through me, each hurting more than the last. Despite it all, I feel oddly calm.

I remember watching this same sky with Yve. I remember the times we had together, I remember her smiling face. I miss her.

I'll never kill Michael, but she'd never have wanted that anyway. She wouldn't have wanted either of this.

Neither did I. The lust for blood consumed me.

The dots block out the sky, and I die.

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**I hated killing these two :( Raquelle really deserved it, but I still felt really bad writing it. I hope that this fight's good enough. I'm a bit worried that it wasn't dramatic enough to be the final scene for two of the most important characters. That's probably because I'm just comparing it to the absolutely epic fight scenes coming up! The pace of the story gets a lot quicker now - we're only five chapters from the end!**

**In other news, today's my birthday! So I'm seventeen now – hooray!**

**You know what would be a really nice birthday present? Reviews!**


	35. Desperation

**Michael POV**

It feels like so long ago that the castle fell down. It's a distant memory, almost a dream at the back of my mind. Now it's just me in the forest, with my spear, knife and backpack, like it was always meant to be. We'd been spoilt by the luxuries of the castle, been able to make friends rather than allies. This is how the games are meant to be played. Each tribute on their own.

I look up at the sound of two cannons firing. That's five tributes left. We're near the end now. Just a few more days and I can go home. I just don't know whether I'll be a victor or a corpse when I get there. I want to win, of course I do. I volunteered for this. I'll make it back. Who am I up against now? I don't know, those cannons could have fired for anyone. Part of me hopes it's not Abi, but part of me hopes it was, so I don't have to kill my friend. I'd be able to kill Howel though. I had been prepared to kill him when I threw the spear before. But since he ran away I've been more than ready to kill him. I'd quite like to, really.

I can kill, I know that I can. I just don't want to. But I'm skilled enough to win these games, and I need to show my sponsors that I can. I'm not going to just start killing randomly, especially if it's not one of my friends, but I need something that'll prove my strength. I hope that the Gamemakers have some kind of mutt that they can throw at me. I can kill those without it preying on my conscience.

I've fought mutts before, back at the training centre in District Four. They managed to get some from the Capitol, ones that had been created for the Hunger Games but not used. The Capitol didn't have any use for them, so they sent them to the Career districts rather than having them put down. I was one of the lucky ones that was given the chance to fight. I went up against this huge cat thing, all fangs and claws and muscle. The fight lasted for barely a minute before my trainer shot a tranquiliser into the mutt. I'd have been killed if he hadn't stepped in. So maybe hoping for muttations isn't a good idea.

"Michael."

I spin around at the sound of the voice. Samkin Hopp stands behind me, closer than I'd expected. I don't lower my spear until he raises his hands. All of his daggers remain tucked neatly into his belt.

"Samkin," I say.

"You made it out alive then," he says.

"Yeah," I say. "And you're still alive."

"So that's two out of five that we know," Samkin says.

"Howel will have made it," I say. "He always does."

We stand there in an awkward silence for a while. Neither of us know what to do.

"It's too late for an alliance," I say with a sigh.

"It's too early for a fight," Samkin says.

I nod. "So we're just splitting up again?"

"I think so," he says. "I can't see what else we can do."

"I'd have liked an alliance," I say. "But it's too late. We'd only be together for a day or so before we had to fight."

"It'd be pointless," Samkin says. "Maybe if I'd met you before those cannons fired, then it would have been different."

"Well..." I say. "Good luck, I guess."

"Just a few warnings," Samkin says. "I was near the castle ruins and I heard music."

"Music? Piano?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure what it was."

"Howel's back at the castle?" I say. "Don't go there. He's planning something, I don't know what, but it's not going to be nice. There's going to be a feast, quite soon I imagine, and it'll be at the castle. He'll have a trap or something set up. Sorry I can't be more specific."

"How much of a trap could he make with the castle gone?" Samkin says, and I can tell that he's still considering going.

"Probably a very good one. I don't know how he'll do it, but he will. Howel might go a bit crazy in fights, but he's very intelligent and calculating when he's not."

"He killed Uwel," Samkin says. "I know how traps work, I could get past it."

"Don't try," I say. "Whatever he's got planned, it'll be deadly."

"I could probably make it," Samkin says.

"Don't."

"I'm sorry Michael, but I feel like I have to. Do you have any idea of what he'll have in the trap?"

"You..." I know it's useless to try to persuade him not to go. I might as well not try. "Explosives," I say. "He was experimenting with explosives. I imagine they'll be involved somehow."

"I can deal with explosives."

"There was other stuff as well. Poisons and chemicals and things. He was doing stuff to rats..." I say and Samkin raises an eyebrow. "Honestly, that guy is twisted. Please believe me – he has no regard for life. He'll kill you as easily as he killed rats."

"I know that. That's why I've got to kill him."

I sigh. "Fine. I don't know how many of his old experiments he'll have rescued from the ruins, but he'll have some of them at least. So just be careful, if you really have to go to the castle."

"I think I do," Samkin says, his solemn gaze dropping to the floor. "I owe it to Uwel, and to Howel's other victims. I told you before – I chose to protect the other tributes. At the moment, killing Howel seems like the way to do that."

I nod. "You're a good guy."

"I try," he says with a smile. "So, see you again when it's just us?"

"You'll be a worthy opponent."

With another smile, he heads off into the forest, adjusting the straps on his backpack. He's brave, to face Howel when he knows Howel will have the advantage. I wish that I could be that brave, sometimes. But no, when the feast is announced, I won't be going anywhere near that ruined ballroom.

_**

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Day 11**_

**Abi POV**

I wake up with Luck's arm around me. I cringe and pull away from him. I stop myself and hope that he doesn't wake up. He continues to sleep, his glasses lopsided on his nose. Tentatively, I pick up his arm and push it off of me. It slumps onto the floor beside him. Trying to remain quiet, I stand up and brush the dirt off of myself.

I look down at Luck again. How did I ever fall asleep if all I wanted was to be away from him? I don't know. I should never have agreed to this crazy 'relationship'. Luck loves me, I feel nothing for him. If he knew the truth then he'd be heartbroken and hurt, but if I carry on using him like this then I'm worse than Howel.

There are only five of us left in the games. Luck's going to have to die soon. How am I meant to react then? I won't be able to cry and cradle his body in my arms as he tells me how much he loves me. I'll be sad, of course I will, but I won't look like a girl who's just lost her love. I'll be glad to be rid of him, no matter how much I hate to admit it. I really don't want it to be us as the final two. I don't know how I'll act that out, whether I'll be desperate enough to drive the dagger through his heart. I hate thinking about it. But it's not far away now.

Five of us. There were twenty-four of us at the start. Nineteen children have died in this arena. The thought sends shivers down my spine. Soon, there will only be one.

I look up to see another parachute drifting down through the trees. I grab it and open the package. Inside is a can of soup and two metal bowls. It's a good breakfast, especially for this late in the games, but I don't want it. The people who paid for this thought they were giving it to a pair of star-crossed lovers. Instead, it's ended up in the hands of a witch and her victim.

I can't carry on like this. I can't carry on this fake romance for food. I thought I'd be able to keep going for a while longer, but I just can't. Maybe someone stronger or someone colder could do this, but I feel terrible every time I see Luck. I want to tell him the truth, but the truth will destroy him. There's nothing I can do. If I could change the past then I would.

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Luck POV**

I can't believe that Abi feels the same way that I do. It's incredible – I never expected it to actually happen. But it makes sense – it explains why she wouldn't kill me even though she was a Career. And now that she's with me, each moment is a moment I spend in heaven. I stare up at the branches of the silver trees. I never want to leave the arena. It's a horrible place, but a magical place. I shared my first kiss with Abi in this very clearing, with the sound of the stream bubbling near us and the light of the wisps reflected in her eyes. I know that I only have a few days left here, at most. Death is approaching. I don't know what form it will take or when it will arrive, but I can feel its shadow creeping up on me. But for those few days, I'll have my angel, my bright light to drive the shadow away.

The smell of cooking food drifts towards me. I sit up and see Abi beside a fire. On the fire, is a metal bowl full of soup. The smell makes my mouth water, I haven't eaten a proper meal for so long. Who knew that getting a girlfriend would also get me free meals?

She looks over at me and smiles.

"Sleep well?" she asks.

"Better than I have done in ages," I say.

I embrace her and kiss her on the cheek. She giggles and lightly pushes me away. This is all a dream – I'm going to wake up any minute now. I can't actually be holding her in my arms, giving her my kisses. It's all too good to be true. It can't be real. But somehow it is. I've played scenes like this in my head so many times, but I never expected my dreams to actually come true. I guess they haven't, really. In my dreams we're back in District Three, and we're still there in twenty years, with our children. There's no way that part of the dream will ever become true.

But now is no time for sadness. It's for happiness, to celebrate these last few days that we'll share.

"Where did you get the soup from?"

"I made it," Abi says.

"Really?"

"No, silly," she says with a laugh. "We've got sponsors now, remember? They sent us this and two bowls."

"Oh, oh I see," I say. "It smells delicious."

"Well, I'm sure their happy to know that they've spent their money on someone who appreciates it."

I smile. "How long until it's done?"

"Not long now." She glances at the gently simmering soup. "You go and rest. I'll bring yours over in a minute."

"I'm looking forward to it," I say.

I trundle back across to where I had slept and watch Abi from there. I'd be happy to sit here all day, watching her work. Abi had always been a good cook. School cake sales were always filled with her creations. Even in the games, she takes time and care with her cooking. She takes a sip of the soup, and then adjusts the flavour with herbs and spices that she'd gathered. When she's satisfied with the taste, she pours half of the soup into the other bowl. She hands one to me and keeps the other for herself.

"I hope it's all right," she says. "It must be the first meal you've had for ages."

"First proper meal," Luck says. "I've been living off of nuts and berries mostly. Occasionally bread, if my sponsors were feeling generous."

"Well, eat up," she says. "Or drink up. Do you eat soup or drink it? I'm not quite sure."

"Seeing as we don't have spoons, I'd say this is drinking."

The soup warms the metal bowl in my hands. The tantalising smell wafts towards me.

"Cheers," I say.

I raise the bowl to my lips and drink. It's just as delicious as it smells. So many flavours, mixed together to create this wonderful, unique taste. It's almost sweet, almost sour, but whatever it is, it's scrumptious. Abi watches me, a smile on her lips.

"Aren't you going to have yours?" I ask.

"I wanted to see if you liked it first," she says.

"It's lovely," I say. "Absolutely delicious."

My stomach groans. It's probably just not used to having food in it. I take another sip and feel the hot liquid flood down my throat in a wave of taste.

"You really should try it," I say. "It's great."

"In a bit," she says. "I'm not that hungry at the moment to tell the truth. Who do you want to win, Luck?"

The question catches me by surprise. "You, of course. You know that."

With her watching me intently, I drink more. Pain hits my stomach like a gunshot. This can't just be it adjusting. I drop the bowl and clutch at my stomach. Now that the soup's left my mouth, I can taste another flavour that lurked in, concealed by the others. A bitter tang, right at the back of my mouth. She wasn't flavouring the soup, she was poisoning it. I push my fingers into my mouth and try to make myself throw up the soup. But I can't. I'm shaking uncontrollably and I've broken into a sweat. And all the time my stomach roars with pain. I collapse onto the ground, trembling. I look up into the eyes of the girl I love, into the eyes of my killer. She covers her mouth and looks away, sobbing. Did she ever feel anything for me at all? Was this all just a ploy to kill me?

"I... I loved you," I manage to say, my voice a shaking whisper. "And you..."

"I had to, Luck," she says through tears. "You were going to have to die, you wanted to. Compared to what Howel would have done to you, this is quick. It's the best way for you to go. I didn't want to see you in more pain."

"I..." I can't find words. My head is spinning. "Did you ever..?" She doesn't reply. "Did you lie?"

She hesitates before answering. "Yes."

The last thing I see before death takes me is my angel. And I curse her.

**

* * *

Abi POV**

The shivers stop running through Luck's body and he falls limp. A cannon fires above my head. That's it. He's dead. I'm free from this 'relationship'. There are only four of us left. But I can't stop crying. The tears come fast and make me feel ill. I'm shaking as much as Luck did before he died. I throw my own bowl of poisoned soup against a tree and it splashes down onto the muddy ground.

I've killed someone. Not just someone. Luck – the boy who loved me. It was a quick poison, and supposedly the most painless of the ones that I'd brought with me. Out of all of the deaths that Luck could have died, it was the best. I had to kill him, I had to. I couldn't carry on like this. But I killed him for his sake as well as mine. He had a death wish – he would have sacrificed himself for me. I couldn't let him do that. Howel, Michael and Samkin are left, as well as all of the mutts and tricks of the Gamemakers. Poison was the best way he could go. That's what I'm trying to convince myself to believe.

I feel terrible, sick to my stomach. I don't know if I'm crying for him or for myself. The thought makes me feel even worse. I'm a selfish, horrible person. I'm a murderer. I'm Howel.

I grab my dagger. It would be so easy, so quick to plunge it into my heart, to kill this monster that I've become. I know that the pain of murder will live with me forever, so why shouldn't I just end it now? I squeeze my eyes shut and prepare to end my life. I deserve to be killed for what I've done, what I did to Luck. But I can't quite make myself do it. The dagger's tip trembles near my chest, but I can't force it in. I open my eyes and look at Luck's body, hoping that the memory of what I've done will give me the extra force to drive the dagger into the flesh.

It's a different memory altogether that washes over me. About how much Luck cared for me, how much affection he gave in just the two days together. About him back in the district, the occasional weak smiles he'd send me over his work. About how he wanted to die so I could win these games. I couldn't love him like he wanted, I couldn't let him live, but I can do what he wanted. I can win.

I think about all of the people in the games who have helped me, all of the people who have died because of me. Zozi, my sister, my saviour. Luck, my victim, my judge. Even Elsia, my ally, my friend. All of them, dead. While I still live. I won't win these games for myself; I'll win it for them. For all of the people who believed in me, who I let down.

Somewhere above me, trumpets sound. A feast is announced, in the castle ballroom, as Howel predicted. He'll be waiting for whoever is stupid enough to take the Gamemakers' bait. It won't be me.

I pack my backpack and leave the clearing. The helicopter appears overhead, ready to take Luck back to District Three. The district that I'll be returning to, the district where I'll be hated by my own people for what I've done. And I don't blame them. But with Luck's body behind me, and the tears no longer spilling from my eyes, I can see the truth of the games again. It wasn't me who killed Luck, it was the Capitol. I was merely the gun that they fired.

The Capitol is watching me now. What do they see? They've seen me as a weakling who should have died at the Cornucopia. They've seen me as a child determined to prove herself, struggling against her own conscience. They've seen me as a broken doll, distraught at the death of friends, turning to a lost love for help. And now they see a cunning manipulator. A heartless killer who abused the trust of a boy and killed him in cold blood. They see a Career.

What they don't see is the truth. I'm just a desperate girl, driven to do things I never wanted to. Because I'm in the arena, and it's kill or be killed. This is no place for alliances. This is no place for romance. This is a battlefield. I'm just a toy soldier in the hands of the Gamemakers.

**

* * *

Merry Christmas! And for Christmas I gave you the death of one character and one other turning into a backstabbing murderer. Very happy indeed.**

**Sorry about this chapter :( Big apology to oOSnowFoxOo, who's been Luck's biggest fan since the start. Feel free to hate me!**

**I hope you all had a great Christmas :) (If you celebrate it, that is)**


	36. Gambit

**Howel POV**

They announced the feast only a couple of minutes after the cannon went off. I was right, of course. It's going to be held in the ballroom, at sundown. That gives me a few more hours of preparation before my guests start to arrive. They might come early of course. I'll be ready for them by midday. I've only got a few more things to do and the ballroom will be ready.

I tuck one of the walky-talkies into my collar – close enough so that it'll pick up anything I say. I've taped the button down so I don't need to hold it in.

"Testing," I say, and my voice shouts back at me from the distant corners of the room. Thanks to the acoustics of the ballroom – which are still very good, despite the broken ceiling – it sounds as if my voice is coming from all angles. Perfect.

I smile and sit back onto the piano stool. I've effectively trapped myself in this room, but I don't mind. With the piano, the hours will fly by.

I can't wait to see my trap in action. It's so complex, I don't know how well it'll work in practice. It'll work well enough, I'm sure of that, but I don't know if it'll run perfectly. I have this vision in my head of how it'll go, but I doubt everything will fit together that nicely.

I play for a while, but I just can't fall into the trance of music. I'm too excited – it's not letting me concentrate. In the end, I just wander around the hall, checking parts of the trap whilst being careful not to spring it. It's going to be so much fun, when the chain reaction actually begins.

Who will actually come to the feast? Surely no one's that hungry yet. But they'll come for the fight, they always do. That's the whole point of the feasts. It's not to feed us; it's to draw the scattered tributes together. To make them fight. This could be the last day of the games. The final battle could happen on this chessboard floor.

It won't be the final fight though. That last cannon must have fired for Luck. It's ridiculous that he made it this far into the games. That leaves Michael, Abi and Samkin. Abi won't show up, no matter how hungry she is. Michael must know that I was planning something, but I wouldn't put it past him to show up, just to have a chance at killing me. Of course he wouldn't have a chance. He'd die. Samkin's still a mystery to me, but a mystery that I hate.

So imagine how happy I am when the doors swing open to reveal him. I look up from the piano, but continue playing.

"Samkin," I say casually. "How nice of you to join me." I stand up and lean against the lid of the piano.

"Howel," Samkin spits, anger burning in his eyes.

I gesture at the hall around me. "Care to dance?"

He draws a knife and steps forwards. His foot settles on the first of the floor tiles and it sinks slightly, triggering a pressure pad. There's a whir of cogs and mechanisms and the doors slam shut, locking itself. Samkin looks unimpressed, but doesn't take another step. Clearly he's not completely stupid. The tiles in here were all loose, probably something to do with the Gamemakers' feast. It didn't take much to turn them into pressure pads. It was a long and tedious task, but well worth it. It did use up an awful lot of wire though, all that I could scavenge from my old laboratory.

I hold up a key that I'd been keeping in my pocket.

"You'll need this if you want to get out," I say.

"I plan on getting it," Samkin says. "Believe me, Howel, I will."

"How nice."

He throws the knife at me, but it doesn't hit its target. It skids across the floor.

"You missed," I comment.

"It was a warning," he says.

"Of course it was."

Samkin looks around the room. I stay by the piano. He won't work out what's going on. No one could. This is just a ruined ballroom to the untrained eye. Tentatively, he pokes the tile in front of him with his toe. Then the one next to that. He's worked something out, or at least thinks he has.

"I don't blame people for killing in the games," he says, looking up at me. "It's what we have to do. It's what I'm about to do. But what you do, that's just wrong. It's torture. It's like you actually enjoy it."

"I do. But you're hardly in a position to be the one making morality speeches, are you? I know what I do, Samkin, and I'm proud of it."

"You're not just a Career. You're evil."

"Why, thank you very much."

He smirks. "Even the other Careers would turn on you. Your ally, Michael, told me what you'd been studying in that tower of yours."

"Michael? I should have known he was a turncoat. That traitor doesn't deserve to be called a Career. So, tell me, what did he say I've been researching?"

"Explosives."

Samkin throws a dagger at a distant tile. It slams into it hard enough to activate the pressure pad. And he was clever enough to choose one of the ones actually linked to an explosive – one of the ones round the border of the room. There's an explosion, but not the kind Samkin was expecting. Thick white smoke bursts from the tile, and the one next to it, and the next, until the entire edge of the room has exploded. Samkin gasps and coughs as the smoke reaches him. I merely laugh as the ballroom fills with smoke. The smoke doesn't drift to the top of the room, but it goes high enough to consume us.

"Almost right," I say. My voice comes from everywhere in the room, concealing my true location in the smoke. "But not quite right enough. I'll give you half a point for that one though."

"Where are you?" he snaps through the smoke.

"That'd be telling, wouldn't it?"

He rushes forward, clearly thinking he's activated all the pressure pads. He hasn't. Behind me, a different piano key is pressed down for each tile he steps on. Good, now I know where he is. Only one of us is blind in this smoke.

"Stop playing that piano!"

"I'm not," I say. "You are. You see, Samkin, each tile is connected to a different key on the piano. You tread on a tile, the piano plays that note."

Samkin throws another knife at me, and I barely manage to dodge it. That was close. I need to move, he's still got some kind of idea where I am. I run across the room, the piano playing itself behind me.

"Careful with those things, you could take someone's eye out," I say.

My voice fills the room like the smoke. It's utterly brilliant, so confusing. Without the occasional notes from the piano, I'd be completely lost. Instead, I've got a map in my mind. I know exactly which tile plays each note. I haven't put them in any order – the location of each note is completely random. I didn't want there to be any way that Samkin could spot a pattern.

"Did you know that I've been described as a musical genius?" I ask. "I've always been gifted at it. I could identify any note by ear by the time that I was ten."

Samkin takes a few more steps. With each note, I call out its name.

"Shut up!" Samkin yells.

A note distant from all of the others sounds. Samkin must have thrown another dagger. That leaves him with four. I'm not going to try anything stupid here. I won't risk attacking him until he's wasted all of his weapons. He's a good fighter, I can tell that. The moment he sees me, he'll attack. What a shame he'll never see me.

"How do you feel right now? Frightened?" I say. "You've got a good reason to feel that way. You're not getting out of this room alive, Samkin."

"Don't be so confident, Howel."

The notes tell me he's running to the far right corner. Towards the piano. A discord sounds. How sweet, he actually thinks that playing it will throw me off. I still know where he is. But then there's something else. He plays a note over and over again, and then it fades. Damn it, he's cutting the strings. I need to distract him, pull him away from the piano. If he stops it from working, then I'll be lost in the smoke.

I run over to him, close enough so I can see him sawing away at the strings with his knife, testing the notes as he does so.

"Behind you, Samkin," I say.

He swings around and I duck, his knife drawing patterns in the smoke above my head. I laugh and run off into the mist, relieved to hear the sound of him following me. I lose him quickly.

"Don't try anything clever," I say. "That's not playing fair."

"Says the person who's made the most convoluted trap ever."

"I try."

I run back to the grand piano and lower the lid that covers the strings. I'd been foolish to leave it open in the first place. Samkin's quite clever; he's worked out how the piano works. But just because he knows how my trap works doesn't mean that he'll be able to escape it. He's just as helpless as ever, apart from the four knives at his belt. He's not going to thrown them at the mist. Does he know that keeping them with him will keep us at a stalemate? I hope he doesn't.

I haven't heard any notes for a while. Is he just standing still? I press some keys on the piano to make him think I've moved away from it.

"You've lost me, haven't you?" he taunts.

"I know exactly where you are," I say, filling in his location on my mental map.

"Same here," he says.

I jump aside, dodging the knife at the very last second. With a thunk it embeds itself in the piano. I hear Samkin laughing. That throw was far too accurate to be a guess. I stare at the knife. The angle of it suggests it was thrown from above, somewhere around the middle of the room.

He's on the chandelier.

Cursing under my breath, I sprint towards the middle of the ballroom. The mist swirls around me as I run. Another knife cuts through the smoke only a step behind me. He can see me.

"You leave a trail in the mist," he calls.

I drop to my hands and knees and crawl. Hopefully I shouldn't disturb the air that much if I'm lower down. I spot the edge of the giant chandelier, the crystals on it glistening through the mist. I edge towards it, aware of the slight movements of the mist around me. I reach out and my hand finds the cold metal of the chandelier. It's a huge thing. I'd never noticed before, because of the size of the rest of the room. It towers above me, taller than some basic buildings in District One. Dagger in one hand, I start to climb.

Only thin bars support me, I could slip and fall at anytime if I'm not careful. A knife rips through the air towards me. I swing round the bar I was on to avoid it, but it still manages to tear through my shoulder. Well, it was about time I got a scar. The Capitol can't have a victor with no trophies from the games.

My feet find another bar and I climb higher, past extinguished candles. The crystals that hang from the bars jangle as I climb past them. No more knives are thrown. He only has one left. He won't discard that one so easily. I break out of the mist and feel like I've reached the summit of a mountain. The smoke surrounds the chandelier like clouds. Samkin stands on top of the gleaming mountain, his last knife in his hand. I smirk at him. This is it. No more time for fancy tricks, now we fight. He's led me into an environment suited to him. He can balance on the bars without support, while I have keep one hand on another bar to hold me in place. Our eyes lock across the chandelier.

"I hope you think all of the time you put into that trap was worth it," he says.

"Oh, it was." My voice echoes around our mountain like the voice of a god.

"What did all of that achieve? Your 'victim' is still alive."

"There are seven daggers lying around this ballroom. If it hadn't been for the smoke, those would have found their target."

"But this one will." His eyes burn with rage.

"But you won't throw it, will you?" I sneer. "Just in case I dodge."

"Who said anything about throwing?"

He jumps towards me, leaping from bar to bar as easily as if they were solid ground. I manage to get out of the way of his first attack. I swing out from the pole that supports me, but I only slash through air. Samkin's climbing back down into the mist. I follow, but I lose track of him. There are no notes from the piano; he's still on the chandelier. I shouldn't be in the smoke. It's only putting me at a greater disadvantage. I start to climb back up, but a hand grabs my ankle. I kick backwards and somehow manage to tear myself from Samkin's grasp before he can get his knife into me.

I scramble back out of the mist and ready my dagger. When Samkin swings himself up onto my bar, I'm ready for him. I swipe out at him, but he ducks and thrusts his knife forward at the same time. I evade and attack again. Samkin leans backwards and the dagger cuts through the air above him. He's off balance. I lash at him and he dodges again. He falls from the bar, but manages to catch it in his offhand. Confident enough to let go of the upright bar, I walk over to him, relying on my mediocre balancing skills. I crouch down and grip hold of the bar in my left hand. At least I'm slightly more stable now. Samkin dangles from the bar, thrashing as he tries to pull himself up. He could do if he had both hands, but he won't put the other one on the bar. He knows I'll take his knife if I have the chance. Instead, he swings the knife at me, but he knows he has no chance of hitting.

I reach down and lift up his chin with the flat of my blade, ready to slit his throat. There's desperation as well as anger in those dark eyes now. My lips twist into a smirk. I can't help it. To see my rival so helpless is laughable.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," I say.

"You see Howel, this is your flaw." Samkin stops flailing. I'll hear him talk, there's nothing he can do. "You love being dramatic. You love watching your enemies squirm. You love knowing that you're in control of life and death, and you love playing with that control."

"For once, Samkin, you may be right," I say, not moving my knife from his throat.

"The problem is, it consumes you, overwhelms you. You're so focused on it, that you don't notice the little things that could bring you down."

In one quick movement, he drops his head back, brings his spare arm up to the bar and swings himself round. I catch a glimpse of his knife disappearing into the mist before his feet slam into my back. I'm thrown from the bar into the belly of the chandelier. My frantic hands somehow manage to find another bar in the mist. My arm feels as if it's jerked away from the rest of my body. The metal burns my palm as I struggle to stay on the bar. I look down into the swirling mist. I've lost all sense of how high I am. The floor could be several metres below me, or inches beneath my feet.

I drop. It's not far to the ground, a metre or so, but the force of the landing knocks the air out of me. I collapse, sprawling onto the ground. The chandelier is a cage surrounding me. But trapping me won't do. If Samkin wants to get out, he'll have to kill me. That's not going to happen anytime soon.

I stare down at my hands, they're red from the bar, and don't look in any condition to try climbing again. If Samkin still had his knife then there's no chance he'd miss me right now. But he chose to sacrifice it for his life. What a stupid decision.

"Still alive down there?" he calls. "You're being uncharacteristically quiet."

"Shut up!" I yell.

"Make me."

Suddenly, he's behind me. There's a blade against my throat and his other hand pins my dagger hand to my body. How on earth did he drop down so quietly? And how did he manage to get hold of another knife?

"It's one of the crystals from the chandelier," he says. "They're sharp little things."

"Sharp enough to cut flesh?" I ask.

"Probably," Samkin says. "I guess we're going to find out."

"You think you've won, don't you?"

He presses the crystal harder against my throat. He's right, it is sharp.

"I know I've won."

"Then go ahead, kill me. Drive that crystal into my throat. I'll admit it, I deserve it." I smile. "But now you know what it's like, that control of death that you criticised me for. You like it, don't you?"

"Don't..."

"You know what it's like to be me. Maybe you've always been like me."

"I'm not like you."

"Really? I think you're just in denial. You fascinate me, Samkin. How does a kid like you know so much about fighting? You're just as good as a Career, but you're from Twelve. You're no miner, Samkin. You're a thief."

"Shut up."

"You're the one with the blade at my throat. Make me. But for some reason you want to hear me out? You're a thief Samkin, it's why you're so light on your feet. You've trained yourself in fighting just in case you get into trouble. Have you ever had to kill someone Samkin? That explains everything, this whole white knight thing you've been doing. You're trying to atone for what you've done." No response. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Shut up!"

Just as I'd planned, he'd weakened his grip on me during my little speech. He's right – it's easy to get distracted when you feel like a god. He draws back the crystal - only the point is sharp enough to break skin. I shove my dagger back into his leg. He cries out in pain and I tear myself away from him. With his blood on my blade, I spin round to face him.

"You're no hero, Samkin, you're just a common criminal."

He clutches at his leg as blood spills from his wound. The crystal is still in his hand, but it'll be useless against my dagger. I've had my fun. It's time for me to end this once and for all.

"And so you'll die like one."

I thrust my dagger into his heart. His eyes widen in shock, and he stutters as he tries to say something. I smile smugly as his eyes close and he droops around the blade. I pull the dagger from him and he collapses onto the broken chessboard floor. A cannon fires outside of the castle.

I stumble out of the chandelier and the piano chimes in time to my footsteps. Gradually, the mist clears. I knew that the Gamemakers were on my side in this fight. They were the ones keeping the mist in place. When it's all gone, a different ballroom is left. The chandelier has gone. It's sunk into the ground and has been replaced by the feast table. A glorious meal is laid out on it. It truly deserves to be called a feast. A huge roast chicken takes centre stage, surrounded by all the side dishes that the mind could dream up. It's Capitol food, what I deserve after that fight.

I wipe the blood from my dagger onto the tablecloth. I reach towards the food, sparking pain in my shoulder. The cut, I'd almost forgotten it. I tear a strip from the table cloth and wind it round the injury as a makeshift bandage.

There. Now I can eat.

There are only three tributes left now. And I know which of them will be the victor.

**

* * *

Overly dramatic fight scenes are so much fun to write :) This one may have been a little OTT/horribly cheesy/ridiculously unrealistic, but I loved writing it. And you can get chandeliers that big – I checked!**

**I know Samkin was winning on the poll, but he could never have won the games. Why? Because he's from District Twelve. It wouldn't fit with the canon if he'd won. He was a fun character to write though, and at least he went out with a bang. **

**Final three now! We're so close to the end! I'm going to restart the poll again, and this time it's really really important that you vote. I have endings planned out for all three characters. I've written one, but if I think that you're going to hate it, I will change it.**


	37. What We Have Become

**Michael POV**

The moment that I hear the cannon fire, I know that it's for Samkin. As much as I'd like it to be signalling Howel's death, I know that it's foolish to think that it's his cannon. It was suicide to go to that feast, and I think Samkin knew that. But he went anyway, just for a chance to fight Howel. He walked straight into Howel's fortress. There was never any chance that he'd come out of there alive.

I'm still sad about it though. I liked Samkin, he would have made a good ally. He would have made a good victor. If only he'd waited, or if he'd found some way to lure Howel out of the castle, then he might have had a chance to avenge Uwel's death.

Everyone had a death they wanted to avenge. Uwel for Hero. Samkin for Uwel. Raquelle for Yve. Rhian for Cray. Did any of them actually achieve it? I don't know about Rhian, I don't know who killed Cray, but all of the others failed. Now it's up to me to avenge Samkin. I thought I wanted to kill Howel before, for running away from the Careers as the castle collapsed. When I think about how much blood is on his hands, I know for certain that I want to kill him.

There are only three of us left now. Abi, Howel and me. I hope Abi dies quickly; I don't want to be the one to kill her. But I don't want Howel to get to her. He's wanted to kill her since he first met her. There should still be mutts to find her.

I feel horrible for wishing death onto Abi. She deserves to win. She's proven everyone wrong by just getting this far. If she wins, then she'll shock all of Panem. But for her to win, I'll have to die. No matter what, I'm too scared to ever wish that onto myself. Like Howel said, all life wants to continue living. We've all got that natural instinct to survive, and years of Career training has told me I have to win these games. Even now, my mind still believes that.

I hear the sound of water nearby and head towards it. I haven't been starving for these past couple of days but after life in the castle it feels weird not having food and drink on demand. I've been stocking up on water whenever I can. I still drink it like I was living in the castle, which isn't a great idea when I don't know how far away from a water source I am.

I reach a small stream and dip an empty water bottle into it. I remember when streams in the forest were just lines of blue on a purple puzzle tile, not something essential to staying alive. I look up from the stream and drop the bottle in surprise. On the opposite bank is Abi.

I jump to my feet and instinctively ready my spear as she draws her daggers in a flash of steel. Our eyes meet over the river. Abi's expression is determined, but there's panic and sorrow in her eyes. Her breathing quickens. I could win this fight easily. Abi might be a natural, but I'm a natural with years of training behind me. I could kill her now, as quickly and painlessly as I can, leaving just Howel and me alive. All it would take is one thrust from the spear, skewering her heart or throat.

But I can't. Not even this late in the games, with the helicopter to District Four almost in sight, can I bring myself to kill again. Especially not Abi – my friend and ally that I've spent so much time with. I couldn't have killed Samkin, and I can't kill her.

I lower my spear. Her eyes widen in surprise, but – after a pause – she follows my lead, lowering her daggers. We don't break eye contact.

"I won't blame you," she says, her voice breaking slightly. "You're a Career. You're allowed to fight. I'd know that it's not you that kills me, it's the Capitol."

There are tears in her eyes. Does she really think that she's going to die?

"I can't kill you," I say. "Do you really think that I could? Abi, I never want to kill again, especially not you."

"But you're a Career..."

"And you know better than anyone that that means nothing," I say. "You know me, don't you? You saw how much killing Yve hurt me."

"You volunteered. You must have known that you had to kill."

"But you don't know what killing's like until you've actually done it."

Something snaps inside Abi and she can't hold the tears back any longer. She slumps down onto the forest floor, covering her face in her hands. I sit down on my side of the stream.

"Abi, are you..?"

"I killed Luck," Abi says. "I thought I'd be able to handle it, but it's... it's so..."

"Then you know how I feel," I say. "I don't want to have to go through that again."

I sit in silence, staring at my reflection in the stream while Abi cries. I don't want to watch her, she seems like she should be alone to cry. But I don't want to leave her here either. The sound of her tears brings back all of the painful memories. Day one, killing Joard. Seeing Eli's broken body. Pulling the knife across Yve's neck. Watching Cerra smile her last smile. Memories that will never leave me until the day that I die.

I've done it now – I've ruined any credibility as a Career I had left. I've out-and-out said that I don't like killing. I've admitted to an opponent that I care too much to fight. My trainer, my district friends and my mentor must all be yelling in frustration right now. Abi's right, I should be a Career, I volunteered for this. But I've known since the Cornucopia that that isn't who I am. I could never be like Eli. I could never put my own feelings and conscience aside to kill.

"So what now?" Abi says, and I look up. I hadn't noticed her tears stop. "Do we just wait around and see who the arena kills off?"

"No," I say.

"Then what? I thought you don't want to fight."

"I don't want to fight you." I can see in her expression that she understands.

"Howel," she says and I nod. "I thought you couldn't kill."

"I'll make an exception for him," I say.

"You're going to try to find him?" Her gaze returns to the ground.

"Yeah, I think so. He should be in the castle."

"He'll have all kinds of traps set up..."

"I'm hoping that most of them were sprung at the feast," I say. "But even if there are traps, I have to try."

"I... I understand."

"So... Are you in?"

She looks up again, eyes wide with shock and confusion. I flash a grin at her.

"I..." She bites her lip, then meets my eyes again. This time, they're alight with determination. "I'm in."

It was too late for an alliance when there were five of us left. It's ridiculously late for an alliance when there are only three of us. But maybe this isn't a new alliance. This is an old alliance that was never quite broken. Perhaps we've always been allies, even when we were apart.

Abi and I, the last of the Careers. One a girl who was never meant a Career, who was forced to become one in a matter of days. The other a boy who was a Career since his tenth birthday, but can no longer truly bear that title. Here we are, ready to face the last enemy. Together.

We will kill Howel Sela.

We have to.

**

* * *

**

**Howel POV**

I sit at the piano, but I can't play. There are three tributes left, I should be out there, hunting. But perhaps it's better to let them come to me. Abi and Michael will know I'm here. I'll wait for one, and then hunt the other. Yes, that'll do.

It's strange to think that the games are almost over. They've been my life for two weeks, my obsession for a lifetime. But now I'm hours away from leaving the arena. It almost makes me sad.

But I'll return to District One a victor. That'll make it worth it.

I never fitted in at home. District One isn't exactly a place where you have to be intelligent to survive. Either you're stupid enough to work the conveyer belts in the factories, or strong enough to become a Career, then subsequently become a victor, a Career trainer, or a corpse. Of course, there are other professions – traders, merchants and the like – but it's not like District Three or Five, where knowledge is valued higher than physical strength. I'll prove my district wrong. I'll finally get the respect I deserve. I'm the first of a new breed of Careers. Careers who'll fight with their minds as well as their bodies.

I miss District One, as much as I hate to admit it. I miss the atmosphere of the place, the busy streets, the repetitive rhythm of school, all of which I thought I'd be glad to see the back of. Most of all, I miss my family.

I wonder what my mother thinks as she watches me. I doubt she's as proud of me as the rest of the district is. I always did my best to hide my 'dark side' from my mother. She knew it was there, but she never acknowledged it. It was as if she thought that she could wish it away. She never could. I tried to get rid of it, once. But I realised that, without it, I'm just the quiet kid who sits in the corner and reads – the kind of kid District One doesn't want. With that side of me, I'm dangerous.

My mother always encouraged my creative side. She bought me my first piano when I was small, something that I'll always be grateful for. She's an artist, and she saw that I could be too, only I painted pictures with music rather than watercolours. I miss Mother's paintings. They lined the walls of the house. Pictures of me as a chubby toddler, then through childhood, all the way up to the sullen teenager on the most recent canvas. She doesn't paint me that much anymore. It's always my brothers now. Thom with his cocky grin, or Matteu with his innocent smile.

I miss them as well, just not as much as my mother. Thom was always my complete opposite. He's a typical Career kid. He went straight to the training centre as soon as he was old enough and never looked back. He's popular, sporty, confident, your standard District One Career. He thought my Career training was weird, that I should have just gone to the centre like everyone else. Well, I guess I've proved him wrong.

Matteu's different again. He'd never hurt a fly, and would never consider starting training of any kind. Well, except medical training of course. He wants to be a doctor, and they're always in demand in Career districts. He'd make a good doctor; I'm just not sure how he'd cope if a patient died on him.

I wonder if any of the other tributes had siblings. Of course they did. They all had homes, and families that loved them. But that's all part of the games. I stole that from them when I took their lives. I won't feel bad about it. Not now. They all knew that they were never going to see their families again from the moment they were reaped. Only my family will get their child back alive.

* * *

**Just a little chapter before the last one. That's a really strange thought – the next chapter will be the last in the games. I've spent so long with these characters that I kind of don't want it to end. I just hope that the ending isn't disappointing.**

**If you haven't already, please go and vote on the poll for who you want to win. Abi and Michael are currently neck and neck, but no one's voted for Howel... I wonder why (he has backstory now! Kind of...) But voting/reviewing could actually make a difference to the ending, so go and do it.**

**Thank you so much for all of the reviews/favourites recently. It's amazing just how many I've had, and I'm so so grateful for all of them. **


	38. Blood and Rain

**Abi POV**

We reach the edge of the forest and look towards the ruins. There's barely any of the castle that I called home left. Good. If it's a different place than the castle where I made so many memories then I'll be able to fight there. Without saying anything, Michael and I leave the forest. There's no use hiding. There's no one left to hide from.

Weapons in hand, we stride through the long grass of the field, past the Cornucopia and towards the castle. It's the same journey I made on the first day. So much has changed since then. Back then, when there were twenty three other people in this arena rather than just two. Soon, there will only be one tribute left. I hope Michael and Howel take each other down. I'll kill Howel if I have to, but I don't think I could kill Michael.

The sky has faded to dusk above our heads. This morning I was in a different alliance. Today I killed for the first time. This evening I will win the games.

No words pass between Michael and me on our journey. The atmosphere, the tension that clings to us, speaks more than enough. We're on the way to kill an old ally, and then there's a good chance we'll have to turn on each other. It's not the kind of situation that words will help. But having him at my side is nice. I feel so much safer than when I was alone. Michael will stick by me until the end, I know that. I don't want a protector, and that's not what he is. Finally, I'm in a partnership of equals. We'll fight together, we'll defend each other, until we can't stay together for any longer.

I only wish the journey would last for longer. We reach what used to be the entrance to the castle far too quickly. Together, we stop and stare at the wasteland of ruins before us. Beyond the ruins, there is nothing, just more of the field stretching towards a distant horizon. I can only make out the vague outline of the castle; all I can see is a faceless field of dust and stone. Only one room remains intact. The largest and tallest of the rooms, right at the back of the castle. The ballroom. Howel's traps will be in there. We won't go near it.

The wind whistles around us and my hair flies behind me wildly. Storm clouds form in the air above us. The Gamemakers know as well as we do that this is the end. There's a fluttering feeling in my stomach and shivers run through my body, though it's not cold.

"This is it," Michael says, not looking at me. Both of us watch the ruins.

"Yeah," I say, tears biting at my eyes. I wipe them away. That's not who I am anymore.

"Well, good luck," he says. "You've been a good ally."

"You've been a good friend," I say.

Michael sighs and looks towards me. "You too."

"Michael." I look away from the ruins and back at him. He's frightened, I can tell. But he's wearing a mask of confidence, just like me. I just hope my facade is as convincing as his. "Whatever you do, I don't blame you."

"But I'll blame me," he says solemnly and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the resolve has returned. He turns back to the castle. "Let's go."

I nod, and step forward onto the rubble.

**

* * *

Howel POV**

I lock the ballroom behind me. I don't want to have to fight in there again. By limiting my space, I'm limiting what I can do. The traps are all useless now. The voices will echo and the tiles will play, but all of that's pointless without the mist.

There are two figures on the other side of the rubble, small in the distance. I can't make out their faces, but there are only two people that they can be. So they've teamed up to come and fight me, have they? How sweet. But that doesn't matter. I could kill them both with my eyes closed.

Casually, I stroll across the uneven rubble towards them. They freeze when they see me and both automatically ready their weapons. I laugh. Abi still looks like a child playing with toy swords. She won't actually be able to do anything with them. I draw my dagger.

We meet in the middle of the rubble, still with a good distance between us but close enough to hear each other. This is it, the end of the games, standing atop the broken halls of our alliance. Even from this distance, I can see that Abi's shaking whenever I look at her.

"Well, here's a final three I never would have guessed," I say.

"We didn't come here to talk, Howel," Abi says.

"Of course you didn't, silly me," I say. "You came here to die, didn't you? That can be..."

She cuts me off by charging at me. Surprised, I laugh and jump aside as she slashes at me.

"I never thought you'd have the guts to attack me," I say.

"Neither did I," she spits, and attacks again.

She's quick, I'll give her that. Zozi taught her well. The others were right, her background as a dancer shows in her fighting style. It's fluid and elegant, but flashy. It's easy to avoid her attacks, and parrying them throws her out of rhythm. I don't attack her back, I just evade. Let her use up all of her energy now, I don't care.

"Abi!" Michael sprints towards us, stumbling over the rocks.

He throws his spear and I catch it out of the air. With a laugh, I throw it aside. I step back, this fight's going to be even easier than I thought it was. Abi's already out of breath and Michael only has a knife to fight with.

I slash forward at Abi and she parries it. Fear flashes in her eyes as she sees how close the blade is to her skin. She ducks beneath the crossed blade and thrusts forward with her other dagger. I jump back, just on time. The rubble slides beneath my feet, but I don't fall.

Michael rushes at me, slicing at me with his knife. My dagger clashes against his blade and I can feel the power of his attack. The blades part and he attacks again. Michael's a good fighter, but knives don't suit him. He's strong enough to use a big weapon, he should be using one. The knife looks small and flimsy in his hand.

I duck another attack from Michael, parry another from Abi. I'm getting bored of this. I slash up, cutting Abi's arm. She cries out in pain and attacks, but I don't even need to move to dodge it. I turn to Michael and attack, but he shows no sign of exhaustion yet. He's as quick to parry as I am. Forgetting about Abi, I focus my attacks on him.

Abi's dagger swings at me out of nowhere. I curse and barely manage to dodge. I kick out, sweeping her feet out from beneath her. With a thud and a scream she collapses onto the rubble.

**

* * *

Abi POV**

The pain races through me. I couldn't break my fall at all, I slammed into the rock at full force. All of me hurts and my arm is bleeding heavily. I manage to drag myself farther away from Howel, but he seems preoccupied with fighting Michael anyway.

I force myself to sit up and sheath my dagger. I need to apply pressure to my arm, or it'll just carry on bleeding. I wince as I do so. Michael and Howel continue to fight quickly and fiercely. They're both good fighters, they keep up with each other's attacks. Unlike me, who was stupid enough to let one through.

I attempt to stand but my ankle cries out in pain as soon as I put any weight onto it. Please don't be broken...

I crawl further away from the fight and find a small overhang formed by the rubble. I drag myself beneath it, into the tiny cave that it forms. I've abandoned Michael, I feel terrible, but I need to work out the extent of the damage. I tear off a strip of my top and wrap the purple fabric around my arm. Hoping that the improvised bandage will hold, I anxiously poke my ankle. The pain flares up again and I grit my teeth to stop myself from screaming. It better just be a sprain. I might be able to fight on a twisted ankle, but not a broken one.

**

* * *

Michael POV**

I'm a better fighter than Howel, I know that, so why aren't I winning this easily? Either Howel's got much better or I've got worse. I parry another attack. It's this blasted knife. If I had my spear then this fight would be over by now. I shouldn't have thrown it at him, but I knew that I had to do something to distract him from Abi.

I glance at where she was. She's gone. I spot a vague trail of blood leading away over the rubble. I hope she's all right. That attack shouldn't have killed her. She's probably found somewhere to hide.

I look back at Howel's smirking face. Just seeing him makes me so angry. I slash again and he ducks. This is getting annoying.

"To tell the truth, I thought this would be much more fun," Howel says as I leap away from another of his attacks. "In all honesty, Samkin was more interesting."

Attack. Parry.

"Apparently you'd been telling him things, Michael," he says, spinning out of the way of a blow. "About what I'd been doing. It didn't help him much in the end, did it?"

"You're a bastard, Howel. A complete bastard."

"I try," Howel smiles smugly as my knife slices over his head. "I am surprised though. You turned on me so quickly! I thought you believed in loyalty and all that nonsense."

"You deserve whatever you get," I snarl. "You abandoned us!"

"Aw, couldn't the little Careers look after themselves?" He cackles as he dodges my attack. "What difference would it have made if I'd been there?"

Lightning cracks the sky overhead and all of a sudden there's rain pouring down on us. It's just normal rain, not the acid stuff that fell earlier. The Gamemakers seem to love making things as dramatic as possible in these games.

"You broke up the Careers," I say. "If you'd stayed then the castle wouldn't have been destroyed."

"Keep telling yourself that. It was time for that pathetic excuse of a Career pack to split. If I helped to speed things up then that's nothing to cry about."

"They could still be alive."

"You can't blame me for that! Your girlfriend died all by herself. As much as I wish I had killed her, I had no part to play in that."

"She wasn't my girlfriend," I say, aiming an attack at his head. "She was my friend. They all were. Eli, Zozi, Cerra..."

"You knew from the start that they had to die!" The rain clings to Howel's hair and his fringe sticks to his face. In the one eye that I can see, there's a flash of madness as the lightning is reflected in it. "You're pathetic, Michael, you always have been. You and your stupid attachment to people, your ridiculous belief in right and wrong."

I duck and Howel's dagger sails over me. "If that's stupidity then I'm proud to be an idiot."

"But you can't even stick to your own morals," Howel sneers. "When I kill, it's wrong, but somehow you killing me is right?"

"The tributes you killed were innocent. You're a murderer, Howel."

"So are you. Or do you not remember those people you killed? You're just as bad as I am." Howel dodges an attack. He slips on the wet rubble, throwing him off balance.

"Then Hell can have both our souls."

I slash across Howel's chest and his eyes widen. He looks more shocked than in pain. The cut was much shallower than I hoped it would be, but it's enough. He leans over, clutching at his chest. Cursing, he reaches into his pocket and throws something onto the ground. There's a flash and suddenly the air is full of smoke.

**

* * *

Howel POV**

The mist blinds me as well as him, but it gives me a chance to get away. He slashes wildly at me again, missing by a mile. Clutching my chest, I stumble away. That wasn't a small smoke bomb I dropped, the mist covers a large area. It swirls around me and I trip and fall. I don't try to stand up again. Staying low is probably better. I'll only fall again if I'm on my feet.

"Howel!" Michael yells after me, but he sounds distant. Good - he's gone in the wrong direction.

Then shapes begin to form in the mist. What was just dancing swirls begins to change shape. I see faces in the mist. There's Hero, eyes wide as she breathes her last. As soon as I see her she's sucked back into the smoke. I stare in horror at where the face had been. It must just be my imagination. It's like finding shapes in clouds. They're not actually there, it's just a coincidence.

I look away, only to find myself looking at the girl from District Nine that I killed. The mist sighs and she's gone again, consumed by the fog. Just a coincidence, just my mind playing tricks on me. Just another figment of imagination, like back in the ballroom.

Samkin and Uwel appear together. They last a split second longer than the others. The shapes aren't perfectly clear. They twist and turn as I look at them, eventually breaking apart altogether and turning back to mist again.

My breathing quickens and I'm shaking as I stare at the mist, waiting for it to dance back into shape. A fast heartbeat roars in my ears and I glimpse Cerra and Zozi in the fog.

"I didn't kill you!" I yell and slice at the air with my knife.

The knife cuts through their faces and they swirl back into formless mist. But it doesn't stay formless much longer. I'm staring at myself. My own face, there in the mist with the ghosts of the dead. There's that mad glint in my eyes, that sarcastic smirk on my lips, and then it's gone, shattered by my own knife.

Then I see Abi. She's more than a phantasm of the mist. Face twisted in pain, she launches herself at me. She slams her forearm into my throat and pins my dagger arm down. Rainwater drips from her hair onto my face. The mist is beginning to clear. Another flash of lightning illuminates the sky. It picks out the desperation, the fear, the pain, the cold determination on Abi's face. I smile vaguely. There's barely a trace left of the frightened girl from the start of the games. I'm almost proud of her.

A shaking dagger is positioned over my heart. She's trembling and weak – I could push her off of me if I wanted to. But I know that, unlike Uwel, she'd stab me at the same moment that I tried to get rid of her.

"No offence, but I really don't want to be killed by _you_," I say, igniting anger in her eyes.

"You don't have a choice," she hisses.

"I'm surprised, I must say – very impressed," I say and Abi looks slightly shocked. The dagger pulls away, just slightly. "If I'd been told at the start of the games that you'd be in the final three, I'd have laughed. I'd have assumed I'd have killed you by now."

"Stop talking," Abi snaps.

"Don't you want to hear my last words? Or would that remind you that I'm just as human as you? Can you kill your ally, Dowl?"

"You were never my ally! Allies don't abandon each other. Allies don't plan each other's deaths."

"That dagger in your hand seems to disagree."

"Stop it," Abi says, and I swear I catch a glimpse of tears in her burning eyes, though it could just be the rain. "I'm going to kill you, Howel. No matter what you say, you won't stop me. Why are you doing this?" Her voice is starting to crack. I smile at her.

"You know, Abi, I've been held at knife point before in these games," I say, and she listens. I knew that she would. "Each time, I've managed to escape with my life intact. The tributes holding the knife have been much better fighters than you, and, every time, they thought that they'd won. So why do you think that this time will be any different? It won't be. I can tell you now – you've made the same mistake that they did. You listened."

While she's distracted, I grab her sword hand and stab her in the side with my dagger in one swift movement. She screams and I throw her dagger aside. I rise to my feet, leaving her bleeding on the ground. I'm slightly dizzy from loss of blood, but I'm not going to let that put me off. _Uwel _managed to inflict more damage than Michael did and I managed to walk back to the castle with that injury.

I bring my foot down onto her stomach as the mist clears, taking the phantoms with it. I can see her clearly now. That's quite a nasty wound on her side. If she doesn't get a chance to bandage it, it'll kill her. I've done it – I'm going to kill Abi.

"You..." Abi starts to say something.

"I thought you'd have learnt. I'm not going to make the mistake of listening to my victim."

I adjust my grip on my dagger and hear a faint noise behind me. I duck and Michael's dagger slices the air above my head. Laughing, I spin around to see Michael standing behind me, drenched in rain.

"I'm not going to let you kill her," he says.

"What, do you want that honour for yourself?" I smirk. "Face it, Michael, if you kill me then you'll have to kill her."

"Shut up," he snaps. It's amazing how many people say that when they've got nothing else to say.

"Don't you like the truth? That makes sense – you've been hiding from it for so long. Sometimes you have to do things that you don't want to do. And you will kill her, I know you will. Because you want to win, and she has to die for that to happen. I'm amazed that you didn't just let me finish her off."

Michael says nothing, he just attacks. I duck.

"Back to this again, are we?"

It's different this time. Michael's attacks are wilder and reckless. He's barely defending himself at all. Our blades lock and he breaks away, running across the rubble.

"Running away?" I call after him.

He drops his knife and picks up his spear. He fumbles to get a grip on it. Is he going to throw it again? I get ready to dodge, but I know that he won't. He's got enough common sense to know that throwing it is a bad idea.

I charge at him with a hurricane of attacks. He has to resort to using his spear like a staff to block, not leaving him with an opportunity to attack. My dagger clashes against the metal shaft and I attack again and again and again, forcing him backwards. He must know that he's only delaying the inevitable.

Without warning, he switches the way that he's holding the spear and thrusts it forwards. The point reaches me at the same time that my dagger reaches him.

**

* * *

Michael POV**

The pain is excruciating. Howel's dagger tears into my stomach and the pain roars inside me. It feels as if my blood's on fire. I rip my spear out of him and double over, clutching at my stomach. The blood oozes against my hand, and I don't look down. I don't want to see the extent of the damage. Instead, I look up, each little movement causing agony to shoot through me once again. Rain and tears fill my eyes.

Howel grabs at his shoulder. Damn it, damn it, damn it. He must have ducked slightly when he aimed for my stomach. I was on target for his heart before. It's still a nasty wound, but it's nothing compared to the gash that opens my abdomen. It's his left arm as well – he can still attack.

He stumbles backwards and a look of manic glee appears on his face. He grins broadly and his eyes light up. Lightning flashes behind him and thunder roars through the ruins of the castle.

"Looks like you won't have to kill her after all," he says.

I'm barely managing to stay standing. My head's spinning wildly and my vision keeps fading in and out of clarity. But I will not collapse. I won't die like that. With a low chuckle, Howel strides towards me, dagger at the ready. No... he can't win. It's not fair. Anyone but him. Anyone but that monster.

He stops in his tracks and I look down to see a rat chewing at the bottom of his trouser leg. Muttering something under his breath, he kicks the thing off of him. With a squeak, it bounces away across the rubble towards Abi. He starts towards me again, but another rat appears, gnawing at his boot. Cursing, he brings his foot down on it, crushing its little bones against the rock.

There's a sound like thousands of hailstones hitting the ground. I peer past Howel and gasp when I see what it is. Rolling his eyes, he turns around. He swears loudly. Heading towards him like a relentless wave are hundreds of rats. Their forms become one mass of flesh and fur, claw and tooth. Howel spins back to face me, and the grin has fallen from his face. For the first time, he looks truly frightened. His eyes are wide with fright and his mouth hangs open as he breathes in sharply. I manage a smile. Looks like the Gamemakers do have a sense of justice after all.

"Michael..." Howel says with quiet desperation and the rats reach him.

They swarm all over him, running up his legs and across his back. He cries out and tries to push them off of him, but there are so many of them. They drag him to the ground and his screams echo around the arena as he slams against the rubble. The storm of rats continues to flood onto him, biting at his clothes and scratching at his skin. I stumble over to him and see the pain in his eyes.

"No!" he screeches. "Not like this! I... I can't die, not here..." He's cut off by another of his screams. "Michael!" The grin comes back and he tries to stand, but the rats pull him back down. He attempts to push them off, but there's always another rat to take the last's place. "Michael! Help me! You're my ally, my friend? Save me!" The frantic look appears on his face again, wiping away that faked smile. "Don't let me die... please..." He screams again as the rats bite.

I could leave him there to be torn apart by the mangy creatures. But I can't. Howel's right – my sense of right and wrong might have been twisted by the games, but there are some times that the right thing is so obvious. And although it may not be what you want to do, you know that you'll never forgive yourself if you don't do it.

I do the right thing.

I stab my spear down into Howel's neck. His cannon fires as the rats spill over him. They cover him completely, there's no glimpse of the boy left. Beneath it all, that's what Howel was. Just a boy, warped by the Capitol. He did some bad things, no, he did some completely evil things. But he had a family that loved him, a great mind, and hands that could summon beautiful music from nothing. He deserved to die for what he'd done, but he was still somebody's child.

I can't stay by the mound of rats any longer. I manage to stagger back over to Abi before I collapse.

**

* * *

Abi POV**

Through hazy eyes, I watch the rats swarm over Howel. I feel relieved, but I don't feel happy. I could almost say that I'm sad. Howel was my ally, I knew him well. I didn't like him – I hated him – but that didn't stop him being human. Despite everything, there were great things about him. Howel was a genius. He was evil, but that didn't stop him from being a genius. In the Capitol, or even another district, he could have achieved great things. But he's dead. They're all dead now.

Almost all of them.

Bleeding heavily, Michael stumbles back over to me and he falls to the ground. He looks at me with eyes full of tears. Neither of us are in any condition to fight.

"Well done," I manage to say in little more than a whisper.

"You... you too," he says.

He manages a smile before his eyes close. There's no cannon. What now? I guess we just see who dies. His wound is deeper and bleeds more, but I've been bleeding for longer. We're both on the brink of death; it's just a matter of seeing who reaches the abyss first.

A helicopter lurks above us, ready to snatch away the victor and stabilise their injuries.

I close my eyes.

* * *

Panem held its breath. All across the country, eyes were glued to the image of the two tributes. They were on every television, on the big screens in the Capitol and in the centre of each district. Abi and Michael, lying side by side on the rubble in a river of rain and blood.

Then a cannon fired, and there was a victor.

**

* * *

...and now you all want to kill me for ending it on a cliffhanger. What can I say? I'm evil.**

**I really hope that this was a decent ending. I wanted to do the characters justice, and I hope I did. This wasn't the most dramatic fight in the fic, but I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. I'm sorry that Howel used the same trick again, I know that was annoying some people, but he's just not a very good fighter, and that's the only way he can win fights.**

**I was so close to letting Howel win. It would have made an interesting twist, but I'm sure you'd all have killed me. Also, I really wanted him to die the way he did. The moment I thought up that death, I knew I had to use it. I'm 90% sure I know who the victor is now, but you can still go and vote on the poll (which is incredibly close!)**

**There's one more chapter, then we're done! I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it :)**


	39. Ghosts

**Michael POV**

I stare at the boy in the mirror. He looks so different from the me that was bleeding in the castle ruins only two weeks ago. They've cut my hair and it's lost its wildness. They fixed my vision – I don't need my glasses any more. They've healed all of my injuries so that they don't leave a scar. The dark circles are gone from beneath my eyes, despite the fact that the last few nights have been just as restless as the ones in the games. I practice smirking again. Not smiling, smirking. I need to look like a Career again, as cocky and arrogant as I was when I was reaped.

My mentor warned me to be a Career in the interview. My attitude in the games had raised enough eyebrows – I need to prove to the Capitol that I'm still a Career at heart, that it was just a moment of weakness in the games. I don't know if I'll be able to.

I still can't quite believe that I've won. I felt for sure that it would be Abi. Apparently we were minutes away from having no victor this year; I was so close to death. Thanks to the miracles worked by the hands of Capitol surgeons, I was saved.

I can't believe she's dead. Even now, when I see the same clip of her death over and over again on television, I can't quite bring myself to accept that she's gone. She came so close to winning. She should have won. The Capitol has enough Careers as victors. Panem needed someone like Abi, a survivor from the districts, someone they could look up to but still relate to as one of their own. They needed someone who could inspire them. Instead, they got me.

"Michael." I look towards the door. Part of me still expects it to be Eli, or Howel, or any of the others from the games. Of course it's not. They're all gone now. Standing in the doorway is my mentor. He's the same age as me, but somehow seemed so much older during training. I guess that's what winning the games does to you. "They need you on stage."

"Okay," I say, and he closes the door.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to settle my nerves before I walk out of the door.

I head onto the stage, where I'm greeted by a huge cheer from the crowd. The crowd is just one body of people – I can't make out any details. I'm blinded by the lights that are fixed on me. Dazzled by all of it, I manage to smile and wave before heading over to the victors' throne. Caesar is waiting for me there. He motions for the crowd to be quiet.

The first part of the interview goes well. I think I manage to come across as confident but not completely heartless. The audience must know how the games change people; they can't expect me to be exactly the same person I was at the initial interviews.

Caesar chooses his questions well. We talk about the other Careers, about my friends. We focus on the high points, not the lows. He asks hardly anything about the kills. I think he can tell that I don't want to talk about them. He manages to make me feel slightly more relaxed, makes me laugh and joke like I used to do with Eli. The audience laughs with me, boos Howel with me, and some of them even cry for me when I talk about my fallen allies.

After a while, Caesar chooses to end the conversation.

"Thanks for that, Michael, I can't wait to hear more from you later! But for now, let's see the games that made you into a victor."

This is it. They're going to make me watch the games. I prepare myself for three hours of torture.

It starts at the reapings, as it always does. Howel volunteers, full of smugness and pride as he takes his place on the stage. I don't act differently from him. I hate the me that volunteers. He's so confident that he's going to win. If I hadn't volunteered, then maybe Abi would be the one sitting here.

Then the chariots. I resist the urge to look away. All of these people are dead, all of these people who look so happy. Eli and Cerra are both beautiful in their flowing dresses. But although I see them looking like princesses, I can only think about the last time I saw them. When they were dead.

I bury my face in my hands during the interviews. I'm completely obnoxious, joking about death, boasting about my strength. I look like such a Career. I was, then. I look up after my interview has finished. I know that they'll be showing clips of how I react to the video. I can't look weak. I don't know how I'll be able to watch the games.

At the bloodbath, they focus on Joard's death. I don't know if anyone else can see it, but I spot the exact moment where I fell apart. The crowd cheers. To them, that boy's death was a good thing, something that I should be proud of. How could I ever be proud of that?

The rest of the games pass in the most painful three hours of my life. It focuses on the Careers as we laze around the castle, playing cards and chatting. It cuts to the other tributes only when something horrible is happening.

I thought that the games were tough on me. Compared to some of these tributes, my games were a stroll in the park. Uwel battles his robot girlfriend, Cray's helpless as Connor dies, Abi watches in horror as Cerra kills Elsia. Yve saves Raquelle. I feel even worse about killing her now that I've seen just how nice a person she was. They show that part almost in full. The battle between Raquelle and Eli is horrifying to watch. I look away; I can't bear to watch my friend die again. Then the me on the screen kills Yve, and I can see the desperate madness in my eyes, see how much I hurt. The madness is only temporary in me. It doesn't leave Raquelle. It grows, preying on her until there's no trace of her left. Nausea rises in me as I watch her kill Cray and Rhian runs away. Raquelle covers herself in blood like it's face paint. I caused that in her. Without me, she'd still be sane. She might have won.

Uwel dies and I help Samkin. Then they show the collapse of the castle. It hurts to watch, knowing what's going to happen. We find the dragon and Zozi dies while Abi manages to escape. Then Cerra dies. She smiles weakly at me before she lets go of my hand and the cannon fires. I miss her. I miss them all.

The dragon is impressive to watch though; it must have been incredible for the Capitol viewers. That whole sequence is almost cinematic, closing on a final shot of the dragon and me looking at each other before turning away.

Then the games get frantic. Abi and Luck fall in love, then fall apart as she kills him. I can hardly believe that as I watch it. Abi was never that kind of person. I'd never have thought that she'd be able to kill someone, let alone someone she supposedly loved. Raquelle falls further into madness, and Rhian manages to kill her as she dies. Then Samkin dies. I finally get to see the extent of Howel's feast, and I hear the truth about Samkin.

Then Abi and I team up and fight Howel. The rats tear him apart and Abi and I die together. Or at least we should have done. I'm still alive to watch this.

The video stops and the crowd cheers and claps wildly. I'm left in a stunned silence.

Somehow, that counts as entertainment. Twenty three children dying. That's meant to be fun, is it? That's something to be applauded? I grip tightly onto the seat of my chair. Sadness and anger fill me. Sadness for my lost allies, anger towards the monsters in the Capitol that are cheering my name.

Any of those tributes could have won. Any of them should have won. It would have been better than me. I'm just another volunteering Career, another victor that the Capitol can use as the poster boy for their regime. It should be someone like Rhian sitting here. Someone who didn't have any help in winning. Not just a Career.

This whole thing is wrong. I've always known that, but I guess it's like killing. I knew that killing was horrific, but I didn't feel that until I killed Joard. I knew that the Hunger Games were wrong, I knew that the Capitol was evil, but I didn't truly feel that until I sat in the victors' throne and heard their cheers. Now I can see the truth.

We need a revolution. Now.

* * *

**Michael won! Poor guy :( It was so difficult to choose between Abi and Michael, I think that they both deserved to win, really. **

**So it's over. I can't believe it. When I first started this fic, I thought that I'd ****only ****keep it up for a few chapters. Instead, it's over 100k words long. It's the longest thing I've ever written, and I'm actually pretty proud of it, to tell the truth. I never thought that this would be a serious story, it started off as a bit of fun, but then grew into something much different, and much better. I'm going to miss this fanfic so much, it's kind of taken over my life recently!**

**I wouldn't have kept it up if it wasn't for all of the amazing reviews I've received. You guys are so fantastic, I can't begin to explain just how much I love every review I get. I can't believe that there are some people who've reviewed almost every chapter. ****I really hope you've enjoyed it, thanks for sticking by me for so long. ****Thank you, thank you so much :)**


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